The Beloved
by NineStoicCrayolas
Summary: When Team Seven leaves, Sakura finally learns. Assassin!Sakura [BEING EDITED - UNDER CONSTRUCTION - READ AT YOUR OWN CONFUSION - I'll take this notice down when I'm finished with it.]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto.

 **Author's Notes:** This is the re-upload of the first chapter. I will be uploading and editing my work as I go on, when I am done, feel free to continue to read.

* * *

Sakura stumbled. Her hands left bloody prints on the bark of the tress around her, slippery and slick, the wounds that peppered her fingers filling with splinters. She didn't dare wince, didn't dare make a sound—just in case.

Just in case they heard, and they caught her—even though, logically, she knew they were dead there was still a lurching, uneasy sense of paranoia climbing up her spine as she wove and ducked between trees, stumbling and staggering to make her way to Konoha.

There had been too much loss this month, too much tragedy—she didn't need to come home in a body bag; wouldn't, couldn't, come home in a body bag—so she didn't breathe a sound.

The deep wound in her side throbbed; infection ran rampant beneath her skin, festering in her veins, ready to strike out at the first sign of weakness. Her breathing was raspy and rattling, and occasionally, her breath would hitch, once, twice, blood coagulating on her tongue and Sakura knew it was because something had hit her lungs.

The Yakuza had been frantic at the end, scrabbling at her thighs to catch any inch of her, to harm her in any way possible, and by the way her vision was fuzzy, and how she was struggling to land one foot in front of the other—slow acting poison, she was sure—he had made that last hit a good one.

 _Almost there,_ she thought to herself as she spied the edges of Konoha's wall. _Almost there,_ she repeated, her fingers trembling with exertion at the way her body moved quickly and soundlessly through the trees.

Her vision blackened for a moment, white spots dancing in front of her eyes and her food slipped. She wheezed, louder than she should have, as a branch smacked her in the middle of her chest, her entire body crumbling as her hands jerked away from the branch she had been grasping above her.

 _Kaizo,_ she thought sparingly as she urged herself up, biting down on her lip so hard she drew blood, _would have laughed himself sick at my clumsiness._

Even in her mind, the humor fell flat, sickening in the legacy Kaizo had left behind. Kaizo who was sweet and kind, who never failed to bring a smile to others' faces, Kaizo who had managed to make even Boar-Taichou chuckle, although Sakura was sure that in hearing those throaty echoes, her lifespan had been shortened twice over.

 _Kaizo is dead,_ she thought despairingly, trying to blink away the tears that threatened to overcome her. _Dead, dead, dead._

She'd had to leave him in a mess of his own guts; sliced limbs and a butchered face, eyes hanging out of their sockets. A bloody, gory mess of what used to be, and what could have been. She'd choked on her nausea when she'd seen him there—a mountain of blood and chalky-white bone, sticking up at odds and ends—and had heaved before she had to hightail out of the yakuza's base with a speed she hadn't used since she had been a genin and in Team Seven, twisting away from Sasuke's sharp fists.

Sakura bit down on a sob at the memory of her teammate's glazed, glassy eyes and pale skin, blood pooling around him. She had tried at first—to scoop up the intestines and clutch at the decapitated head—to put him into a sealing scroll marked for desiccated ANBU bodies; but she had heard the skitter of incoming footsteps and chatter of impending voices and she'd had to leave his remains, hands stained with blood, gore sticky underneath her fingernails and leap out of the compound.

It had taken her more than a month to get to the edges of the land of Iron, during the course of which, she'd taken it upon herself to hunt down the men who dared to follow her. She'd left them in messy piles of blood, choking on their spines; but there were still some who had managed to clip her and one particularly skilled yakuza had carved the two thick, twisting wounds that crawled down her throat and temple.

She had been blinded by the blood, the trauma of the wound on her neck—a twisted, mockery of a lightning bolt with echoes of the chidori she remembered Kakashi-sensei using—and that of the one that inched down her temple, curving through her cheek, ending at the edge of her mouth. Once she'd recovered, spending three agonizing days groaning into the mud, she had jerked herself awake and made herself _move._

Sakura had promised herself she wouldn't end up home in a body bag, and she _wouldn't._

 _Almost—Almost there, Sakura._ She thought again, and a breathless smile curved her face as she came nearer and nearer to Konoha's safe walls. If she squinted, she could even see the guards at the base of the two doors.

As she leaped from branch to branch, she noted that her knees were getting weaker. The constant strain of movement and the fact that she had barely rested four days was making her head woozy and blinking black spots fill her eyes. As her eyes fluttered dangerously, she was glad that she could see the red of the Uzushio spiral.

 _Please let me make it. Please, please, please._ She begged some foreign kami, _they're waiting for me._

It took her long—too long—to stumble onto the paved path that led her to Konoha. Her breath hitched painfully in her lungs, the jarring of the wound at her side making her breath shorter and shorter and the nasty, pasty scabbed wounds on her face and neck pulsed with dirt, infection and sweat.

It hurt too much when she dropped from the trees to the ground, the painful jolt of her side, the way she could _feel_ how her wounds were slowly but surely tearing more of her skin apart, but she hobbled as quickly as she could, making her way to her village as soundlessly and easily as possible.

As she stepped inside the gates, she saw the shocked-white faces of the guards and the only thought she had before the edging black at her vision finally took over, was that the guards must have been happy to see her if they were rushing to catch her.

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 **Again: Author's Notes:** This is the RE-UPLOAD of the first chapter. Read everything again when I am finished because I will add and take away new and old parts.

Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

Status: Incomplete

A/N: This is the edited version! Please enjoy.

* * *

When she woke, the monitor beeped quietly next to her head. Her eyes fluttered open, a soft groan escaping her mouth as the light burned her cornea, making her flinch. A crick in her neck cracked, tension loosening as she jerked away from the light that was shining down into her eyes. She felt the sting of antiseptic on her wounds, the slight burn of infection lingering on the edges of her ribs, and eventually, she managed to edge her tired eyes open.

Sakura saw honey-wheat-blonde first. Stormy amber eyes stared her down, red, red lips tugged into a fierce frown. Tsunade sat on the bed opposite of hers, arms crossed over her heaving cleavage, concern flickering behind her amber depths. She looked tired—her skin was sallow and gray looking, and she seemed older, almost her true age instead of the one her jutsu made her appear to be. When she made a breathless pant, Tsunade's eyes flickered over her bedraggled appearance and how her hands trembled on the clinical, clean, white sheets of the hospital bed Sakura occupied.

"Sakura." Tsunade's voice rumbled throughout the hospital room. The hoarse croak of her voice made Sakura want to wince in sympathy; her mentor—if she could really call her that and there were many, many times she did doubt—sounded half immersed in her worry and anger, most likely ready to give her a ferocious beat down over the state of her return.

"You overdid it."

This time, Sakura winced. The healing skin of her wounds gave a painful twitch, tearing and coming back together in a melee of burning itches, stabbing twinges and the spasm of her mending face and neck.

She had no doubt that Tsunade did her best to try and regenerate the skin. Her mentor—teacher? There had to be a better name—had always tried to make the scars she came back with look less severe. Sometimes, like the one she'd first received on her forearm, she triumphed over, only the bumps of time remaining to show the faint history that lay beneath her skin; and others, like the searing, scorched words that were emblazoned into her stomach, she didn't.

This time, it looked like she hadn't won—Tsunade had probably left it there to heal naturally and to teach her a lesson in negligence.

 _("A medical ninja doesn't let herself get caught unaware, Haruno.")_

Of course, Sakura did not forget.

Kaizo's high scream had haunted her all the way to Konoha.

Even now, as she lay numbly on the hospital bed, she could still remember the way his blood-slicked hair had felt under her fingers as she tried to stuff his severed head into a scroll—

And—

 _Shinobi do not show emotion, Sakura._

She took a deep breath, ignoring the jerking sting of the wounds on her throat and cheek. Turning to her Hokage—there, that was better. Respectful too—she donned the mask of professionalism and began to recount what had happened.

"I apologise Hokage-sama. The mission went downhill quickly and Kaizo and I found ourselves—incapacitated." The words took so much effort out of her; she had to look away from Tsunade's stormy, calculating eyes and the disapproving, pitiful twitch to her mouth, opting to stare blankly out of the high window.

If he could see her now—balking in the face of authority, trying to shut it all down, lock the grief under years of _not now Sakura, later, later_ —Kaizo would have laughed at her. She had only had him for a teammate a handful of times, but she still remembered how his slightly awkward, squawking laugh echoed around them when he did not know how else to approach a situation. Naturally, the ANBU proctors and high-end officers found it _annoying_ and a _liability._

 _(A liability that lay dead at her feet in a dank cave, surrounded by crazed laughter and steely eyes.)_

Sakura found it somewhat charming—but mostly, refreshing. It had been nice, for those few, few times, to hear it. Had been nice to break up the routine depravation for a dose of normality.

"Incapacitated?" Tsunade-sama prompted, and then, suddenly, Sakura shook herself because—because—because she was an _assassin_ and _not_ a child; she should not be freezing up like an innocent twelve-year-old genin when her leader demands mission reports. "You didn't use your medical abilities?"

"No Hokage-sama. I needed to conserve as much chakra as I could when operating in the field and showing my skills in the environment we were subjected to would have only led to more suspicion. Jackal and I found ourselves at the drop off location at 0300 hours. Everything went well, the client asked us to shed our masks but Jackal and I refused as per regulation. The client proceeded to explain the situation—as I relayed in our previous report—a Yakuza of unknown origin. Upon seeing the target, Jackal and I reached the conclusion that he hailed from Grass or Waterfall. The group's objective was to gain control over the trading routes and impose a tax upon the villagers—one little girl, three chickens and weapons for every three months of protection. Due to their intimidation tactics, the townspeople had no choice to agree." Sakura reached up to press a hand against her throat, to alleviate the hoarse, death-rasp her voice had become.

Tsunade slapped her hand away with a sting of chakra.

She glared.

Tsunade raised an eyebrow as if daring her to object.

Sakura sighed, then, unable to do anything but wilt in the face of her leader. She had been conditioned not to question authority and with Tsunade sitting _right there, across from her,_ Sakura wouldn't, _couldn't,_ dare to disobey her. It would have been easier to tear out her fingernails nail by nail than to continue to do as she wished.

She coughed, trying to clear her throat so she could get rid of some of the build-up so that she could speak clearly. Blood splattered across her tongue and coated her lips a shining, blossoming red—Sakura was vaguely alarmed, until the medical textbooks she had loved to read during her time as a genin came to memory.

 _Sometimes, after the wound has been cleaned and healed with medical chakra, there will be residue in the form of coagulated blood, puss and other. Scan to see if infected, but otherwise, leave be._

"If you leave your throat alone," Tsunade glared at her, confirming both her thoughts and reprimanding her for the actions. "Your voice will get better."

Sakura hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should ask about the deep, cutting wounds that lined her neck and cheek. Tsunade must have seen something on her face, because her eyes shuttered, something a little like pity and anger flashing in her amber depths.

"You will be able to continue your duties in both ANBU divisions," Tsunade pressed her lips together, a burning moment of regret filling her face before she pushed forward. "We both know you can work wonders with genjutsu and a makeup kit…you are too good to lose; even to deep-tissue scarring, Sakura."

Something like relief came over her, even as she realized that this would have been the only way for her to ever retire from ANBU—at least, until she trained another cadet and there hadn't been any takers for the Seduction corps nor for her high rank in the Saboteur squad. Her corps were called the _suicide squads,_ because no one made it past the third year in Seduction and Saboteurs had a ridiculously high kill-rate that landed them as international targets in their fourth week.

(Unless—unless they were lucky. And Sakura, for all her bad fate and misdirection in life, was ridiculously lucky.)

She nodded once, letting the familiar burn of her eyes shrink away under her professionalism. She would not cry, not here. There was no escaping her duties—not when she was this invaluable.

"Thank you, Hokage-sama." Sakura agreed immediately, demure as always in the face of her superior officers. "Shall I continue?"

Tsunade nodded.

"Jackal and I adhered to standard protocol; initial surveillance of the area, weeding out the weaknesses and strengths, finding ways to approach the targets. The traditional week and a half was the amount of time we were able to get their patterns and habits down to join up with the group. Jackal went undercover as a wayward bandit—a rival clan that had been ousted by the Daimyo last year. His role was to get a hands-on approach to a mission in ANBU, an assessment given by Boar-taichou, as well as to get close enough to the target to kill him." She paused for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Her voice had nearly swindled to a whisper, the hoarse rasp grating at the dryness of her throat.

Tsunade mutely passed her a glass of water in a shitty paper cup. The water was cool, soothing her torn throat and Sakura nodded at her gratefully before continuing.

"I was undercover as a geisha in the local tavern." She ignored Tsunade's sharp eyes on her face and spoke on. "I fed Jackal false information that he then gave to the leader of the Yakuza. My kill count, at the time, remained at zero. The situation was proceeding well…but the Yakuza caught a hold of some information from our initial client—"

"We were set up?" Tsunade hissed, fury lighting her eyes.

Sakura shook her head. "No, Hokage-sama. Nonoshi Teramiya was tortured and killed in the third week of our mission. When I got hold of the information, it was an hour old and I attempted to confront it, change it or manipulate it, but the Yakuza had strung him up in the square as a power play. Jackal, I learnt soon after, was in interrogation. I was still undercover, so I used the excuse of the Yakuza leader—Horomiya Yokushi—needing a geisha for the night. Infiltration was easy, and I secured Jackal's location as I…incapacitated the target."

Tsunade frowned slightly. "Do you have any ideas as to why the Yakuza leader suddenly knew of yours and Jackal's mission?"

Sakura paused, thoughts racing. She had _suspicions,_ ideas and half-formed theories, but nothing that was solid—nothing that would stand for trial.

"I order you to tell me your suspicions, every idea or half-baked theory you have on this Yakuza group, Otter." Tsunade ordered, her voice nearly hoarse in anger.

Sakura didn't hesitate. "My information is not complete, or backed up, Hokage-sama, but…there were whispers of the Akatsuki and other, more malicious parties involved with the Yakuza. Some said it was Iwa, or Kumo, but…there was a rumor about the recently passed Mizukage—Yagura…he had apparently passed through the town a couple of years ago, and they remembered the oddest things about him; his taste for salmon onigiri, addiction to folk music as well as…the rather large, intimidating partner."

Tsunade arched an impressive eyebrow. "Intimidating partner?"

"Yes." Sakura's mouth twisted. "However, I was unable…to achieve more information out of my target, as Jackal's interrogator interrupted me. I disarmed the leader with genjutsu, and put the rest of his guard out of commission. However…I underestimated his affinity for genjutsu, as we were told that he was a simple, _civilian_ Yakuza, and he broke out of it, catching my ribs. The rest of his foot soldiers were alerted of my presence and I took care of them swiftly. Jackal…didn't make it."

Her words were succinct, brief and bitter.

"There is no ANBU scroll for him."

Tsunade did not press, instead, moving for her to continue her report.

"Unfortunately, in the scuffle, one of the soldiers was able to send off a signal to one of their brother Yakuza and I was intercepted on my way to Konoha—gaining the scars on my neck and face." Sakura let her hands shake for a moment, before bowing her head, chin touching her chest. "The mission failed, Tsunade-sama."

The beeping of the monitor next to her was the only thing that made noise in the tiny hospital room. The top floor of the ICU was quiet, which wasn't at all that strange. If she strained her ears, she could hear the ticking of the clock outside her room. Sakura didn't look up from her hands, simply hoisting herself up further and leaning against the wall, not bothering to shove down the wince at the searing pain in her ribs.

Her throat itched from the gauze and the new skin, as did the scar on her cheek and Sakura desperately wanted to take it off, but she didn't dare move before Tsunade acknowledged her.

"Sakura." Tsunade's firm, unyielding voice echoed in the room, but Sakura didn't wince.

She didn't look up either—she didn't think she could handle looking into the face of another disappointment.

She hadn't failed many missions, but the ones she did…those were the ones that etched themselves into her skin far deeper than any of her scars ever would.

"You did well."

Sakura's eyes shot up, her mouth falling open before she could control the reaction. Tsunade wore a small, brittle smile, her eyes desperately sad, but she leaned forward to drag her into a tight hug.

"There was nothing else you could have done." Her Hokage whispered to her. Tears burned in Sakura's throat and she swallowed, her vision becoming dangerously blurry. "You completed the objective of the mission, as planned and you learnt of the Yakuza's motives, background and other neglected details."

"I failed Jackal—"

"Jackal was good and talented, but not everyone can work their way out a pinch like you can. You are…exceptionally talented…he will be missed."

Sakura closed her eyes, swallowing back the memories of Kaizo's joyous older sister. _You'll bring him back safe,_ she'd asked, gray eyes painfully innocent. _There are rumors about you—please keep him safe._

(Rumors that were swathed in blood and carnage, rumors that spoke of her like a war god in a battlefield—one that was lucky, so, so lucky—there were times where she could still _feel them against her skin—)_

 _(She was not lucky.)_

Sakura wanted to vomit, to tear the skin from her bones, to go back to the base and scrape up every inch of Kaizo's body, even if it meant skinning her fingers raw. Nausea overcame her and she felt _ill_ knowing that she'd failed Kaizo. She felt hot and cold and numb all at once—like someone had scraped the bottom of her soul and come up with nothing left.

Tsunade rubbed her back soothingly and Sakura melted into her embrace, boneless and sobbing. Her tears drenched her mentor's coat, and she clutched desperately at her shoulders, her body shaking so hard she could barely _breathe._

It was when she started to hyperventilate—eyes wide, breath hitching too fast, tears rushing from her eyes—that Tsunade injected her with a sedative. She held her hand while Sakura went to sleep, her eyes stony, a gleam of intense sorrow and loss glinting whenever the light hit her face a certain way.

Her eyes started to droop, mouth releasing the last quick breath. Tsunade kept rubbing a circle into her palm, and just as Sakura started to drift away, she murmured something quick and fleeting.

"I'm glad you're home safe, Sakura-chan."

Sakura gave her a wobbling smile, tears still burning the raw skin under her eyes.

"Yeah," she whispered back, her body loose and calmed from the sedative thrumming in her veins. "Yeah me too."

She fell asleep to Tsunade running a hand through her long hair, to the blinking of the dim lights and the beeping monitor by her bedside.

* * *

Near the border of Fire Country, two people walked down a dusty, winding road. The sun was high above their heads, scorching down on the earth, burning through the forest treetops, beating down on unprotected skin.

Naruto scowled, scratching at the itch that was forming between his shoulder blades. It was hot, _too_ hot. The kind of hot that made people want to lounge around at home in underwear and sit in front of the fan, cool wind blowing in their faces, as they chomped down on watermelon slices.

" _Are we there yet?"_ He whined, hoping that if he fluffed his hair enough it would create enough movement for a tiny breeze and relieve him of the heat that seemed to settle in his bones.

Jiraiya didn't turn around or answer, but Naruto could see that he was just as hot and lethargic as he was. They had been walking all over Fire Country, down to Nami no Kuni and then over to Takigakure before they'd lumbered their way back to Fire.

"Pervy-sage." Naruto lamented again. " _Pervy-sage!_ Are. We. _There yet?"_

"We're almost to the waypoint, Naruto, _stop whining."_ Jiraiya groaned, running a hand over his sweaty forehead.

"But—Pervy-sage, we're so close, can't we just sleep _here_ —"

"Naruto they have _mixed_ _onsen_."

Naruto scoffed in near bewilderment. "It's boiling, dattebayo!"

"Research waits for no man!" Jiraiya shook his fist, a lustful gleam coming to his eyes.

"Or weather." Naruto grumbled under his breath. Then, he suddenly perked up. "If we go faster then we can see Baa-chan sooner!"

"…You'd better keep that smug smirk off your face, boy."

Naruto's laugh echoed in the trees and Jiraiya hid his own, cheerful smile.

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Again: Edited version! Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto.

 **Status:** Incomplete

 **A/N:** THIS IS THE EDITED VERSION

* * *

Sakura made her way out the hospital smiling grimly at the shinobi who passed by her. Some ANBU cadets bowed their heads in mourning and a couple of others followed her with their eyes, loss shining in their faces.

Right now—

Right now she couldn't _deal_ with their pity. Her throat was still raw from her wound and the tears, the sobs having ripped through some of the stitches Tsunade had put in, but her mentor had said nothing as she stiffly sutured her torn skin back together again. Her fingers had been soft against her throat, and even though Sakura knew there wasn't even an _inkling_ of ulterior motive behind her actions, her shoulders were still tense, her eyes still riveted on her face, hands ready to pounce.

Sakura had jolted out of her stupor when one of them made her way towards her, face shadowed by bereavement, hands clenched at their sides. "Sorry about your loss." They told her quietly, and Sakura could only give them sad eyes and a twisted smile.

 _("Don't worry taichou," he beamed at her, eyes sparkling. "We'll be done in no time and I'll be a real operative soon!")_

She bowed her head instead. "It was too soon."

They—he—made a move to put his hand on her shoulder, but she'd already walked passed him, head held high, eyes burning. He let her pass through, and she felt his eyes burn into her back, knowing that when she needed them, to grieve, to let go, they'd come if she called.

A lingering through whispered in her mind, _I wonder if he was friends with Kaizo._ She pushed it away almost as quickly as it came.

The sun was low and heavy in the sky, burning against her tender skin. It had only been a couple of hours since she'd arrived in Konoha but it felt like a small eternity in the lifeless hospital, surrounded by beeping monitors and the slow, steady dripping of the IVs.

She walked slowly, carefully, not daring to jolt her injuries. Sakura danced her fingers across her ribs, checking again, and again, and again if she was good and whole and _safe._ That there was no pulsing, throbbing infection ready to kill. She had faith in Tsunade, but even she knew of lingering sicknesses that slowly drove shinobi to the grave.

And she had promised— _sworn_ —that she would make it back, that she'd be intact.

Sakura stifled a grunt of frustration as the gauze began to itch; she'd shifted too much, and now it felt awkward and bulky against her skin, like an extra layer of fat that she wasn't used to. There had been a time once, long ago, when she'd have been able to pinch the skin between her fingers and pull, healthy flush pinkening at the pressure. Now, she had no skin to pull, no fat to pinch, only papery skin and thin bones.

 _(That was one of the rules—no fat. No fat, no fat, no fat, no fat. You are lean, small, underdeveloped. You will be our ace in the hole. They won't see you coming._

 _She'd laughed then, at the stupid pun._

 _She wasn't laughing now.)_

When she pulled the thick, heavy gauze off her face, a civilian gasped. She suppressed a sigh that sounded a little too much like a sob, and instead tucking her trembling fingers into her pockets and slouched down, hoping that if she hid her face into her collar far enough, no one would be able to see the mess she'd become. Her throat itched, and her skin was so tender against the scratching fabric of her shirt that she felt actual tears burn in her eyes.

(She supposed she looked monstrous with the illusion of a severed neck, the parted, scarred skin that ran all the way down to the corner of her mouth, twisting her face— _disfigurement, disfigurement,_ they whispered in her mind.

That's all she was now, a blemish on perfect skin, a smudged ring of black on a perfect record.)

 _Ryu._ She though bitterly, biting down on her tongue. _Oh Ryu, what will you think of me? Will I be your monster? Will you think of me and see my scars, burning through everything you thought as good?_

Sakura felt off kilter, surrounded by curious prying eyes, the dismay bubbling under her skin, like a roiling, thunderous burn that wanted to push and tear out of her. They were staring, staring, staring and all she wanted was to _leave._ She wanted to hide, she ached to run all the way back to her home in the tiny cottage, to run to—

The world was spinning around her and her heart beat fast in her chest, her breath coming in short pants—

"Sakura." Someone brought her from her thoughts with a firm, gentle voice.

Familiar brown eyes. Concerned brown eyes, watching, careful. A part of her yearned to tear them out so they'd just _stop—_

"Shika-chan." She smiled a little at the ponytail that stuck up this way and that. Her skin pulled, the scar contorting her face. She wondered if she looked more monstrous then—smiling, eyes dead, scars wracking her skin.

 _(Just how many would she have to get before they realized she was going insane?)_

"How have you been?" She said, voice light and fluttering, like they taught her. _Hide, hide, hide._

She saw him eye her for a moment. (And didn't she hate that word, _eye?)_. Saw him watching how her fingers trembled on her ANBU mask, slung onto her belt, how her chin was drowning in the collar of her jonin vest, her hair pulled in a messy ponytail, muddy strands stuck to her neck, flirting with the zig-zagging scar that ran across it.

Sakura hadn't realized she was holding her katana until his eyes flickered down to her whitened knuckles.

 _Oh._ She thought. _Maybe I shouldn't have kept it out._

"I've been good." He said, watching (always _watching)_ how her frame relaxed and she slid the katana back into the sheath that ran across her back. He slouched, hands in his pockets, drawing himself nearer. "Planning the next chunnin exams."

He said it so languidly that she had to wonder if the brief flicker of worry that had run through his eyes had been real at all.

She hummed softly, and remembered that she was home now. She was home and she was safe, she was home and she was safe and there wasn't any reason to keep her guard up. She felt her shoulders slump.

 _She was so tired._

"That's good," she grinned a little, adding a flash of a dimple. _Cheeky girl._ _Show them you're not broken._ "That's wonderful. Seeing much of Temari-chan these days?"

He flushed, looking away.

A smirk pulled at her lips, a real one this time, because Shika could never hide anything from her, not since they'd been in the academy.

"Why, I hope you're using protection." This time, her voice was sly and brittle, hollow and something that Shikamaru wisely didn't comment on.

Instead, he sighed, as if put on. He loved her, she knew, and he found her smart too which was why he dragged her out, winding her down from kills and adrenaline highs. _He worries you know,_ Ino had told her once when she was back from another A-rank mission. Her eyes had been so blue then. _We all do._

"Troublesome woman," he grumbled and she laughed, a little too loud, a little too brittle, but it was a laugh and she saw Shikamaru's lips quirk.

 _Smart boy,_ a part of her drawled.

 _Shut up, shut up, shut up._ She thought furiously, hands biting into the meat of her palm.

She locked that part of her up, made it slither back into the foundations of the cracks, and bolted the door shut. Still, it haunted her, ominous silence ringing in her head. _I'm still here,_ that part of her sang. _I'll always be here._

At her silence, Shikamaru dragged himself closer, looking all the more bereaved.

 _He's worried. So worried._

She wanted to tell him she was fine, but the words wouldn't come. They felt too bitter on her tongue, a lie that not even she could push through.

"Come on," he said gruffly. "Let's get you home."

They made their way to the edge of the shinobi district slowly, her feet dragging, her throat itching, fingers twitching in her pockets. They talked about who was out on missions, _Kiba, Choji, Hinata. They come back tonight._ Shikamaru told her that her plants were growing well, that her neighbor was taking care of them properly this time, and that Gaara had sent her another letter, _he's worried too, ever since you went to Suna, he badgers Temari into asking about you._ He said nothing about little Ryu and for that, Sakura was glad, because she was sure that if someone brought up his name before she was ready, she'd do something she couldn't take back.

Her ribs were still fragile, and sometimes he hung back, eyes roving over her frame, hands lingering out of his pockets to catch her, just in case. He even, grudgingly of course, offered to help her walk, but she'd waved him off with a troubled smile.

"If I can't even walk home, what good am I as a shinobi?" She had chuckled bitterly. She'd nearly raised an eyebrow at the worry that gleamed in calf-brown eyes.

"Sakura, I don't think you've got to worry about that." He muttered under his breath.

She'd snickered then, a little bitter, a little happier, and he'd rolled his eyes.

Not quite fast enough to hide the relief in them, though.

"How's ANBU these days?" He asked as they turned down her street. He slouched as he walked, matching her own stance and Sakura wondered if he was mirroring her on purpose, trying to re-establish their rapport.

It was a quiet evening, she noticed, and Sakura was glad that it seemed like it was going to rain soon. The heat of the summer was starting to wash away with rolling clouds and crackling thunderstorms that edged at the confines of the clear-blue sky. She knew Ryu would want to play in his yellow rain boots and red overcoat and she couldn't wait—he was always so adorable.

Sakura didn't answer for a while, preferring to watch as the sun trickled behind the Kage Mountain, enshrouding the village with hazy darkness, the honey-yellow electric lights flickering on with a dull hum, filling the streets with a homely silence.

"It's…alright." She answered slowly. "Lost my teammate."

He faltered for a moment in his step, alarm in his eyes and then hesitated as he asked, "It wasn't…?"

The truth was, Kiba was the one who kept her sane, who kept her whole and intact. They all knew it, they all witnessed it, and they all made sure that he came back alive and unscathed to quell her mental state.

 _He's one of your anchors._ Ino had told her. _You're precariously low on them, so he's the one we try to keep somewhat safer than the others, for you._

"No. Kiba's not in ANBU this month, Shika. 'Sides, you know he's on a mission with Hina-chan and Choji-kun." She said quickly, reassuring him. She watched his chest drop in relief and wondered if she could ever be as free with her movements. "And I'm glad…I wouldn't have wanted him to be there—not for this one."

Shikamaru's eyes hardened and the chunnin scowled. "They still have you on those missions?"

Even though his voice was light and curious, Sakura knew better. His eyes were shadowed and cutting, anger thinning his lips, hands tightening at his sides. They'd talked about it once, and only once, when she'd turned fourteen and they'd thrown her a welcome home party. _Why?_ It'd been a vague question, but she'd known, instantly, what he was talking about. _Daycare costs money, Shika,_ She'd said and that had been that.

He hadn't asked again, and even though she knew he disapproved, he also knew that there was _no way in hell_ that she was accepting charity. She loved him though, because he'd gone to extreme lengths to make sure she knew that he saw her no differently.

"Once you join—"

"You never really leave, yeah. Yeah I know." Shikamaru sighed, running a hand through inky locks. "Still…it sucks."

She choked on a bitter laugh. "Ah. Yeah. That it does."

Sakura saw his face soften, just the slightest amount, and he raised his arms, tugging her into a loose hug. He made sure to do it slowly, so she could see his every movement. He was warm and solid, something that Sakura was infinitely grateful for in the darkening night and cooling sky. He smelt of smoke and wood, a little trickle of summer breeze stuck on his vest, and her cheek rested on his chest. She was still too small to lift her chin over his shoulder, and he settled his chin on the crown of her head, his hands splaying across her back protectively.

They both pretended like she hadn't hesitated before wrapping her arms around him.

She breathed him in, and thought of home. Of the people who built her back up carefully, softly, gently. Of how they loved her ferociously, of how they never _ever_ let her down. If he noticed that his vest was a little damper than usual when she pulled away, he didn't say anything.

"Thank you, Shika." She whispered softly, wiping away the wet on her cheeks.

His hand drifted towards her shoulder, "The least I can do, Sakura. I know Ino doesn't— _can't_ —take those missions." _We're here for you, always, always, always. You are not alone, not ever._ Is what he didn't voice.

She watched the frustration rise in his face, eyes darkening in anger and she poked his (still rounded) cheek to grab his attention. Her eyes were fierce, mouth slanted in a scowl.

"You should be _glad."_ Sakura said brazenly, boldly. "Ino's strong, Shika, but she's not that strong. And you should be happy that she doesn't have to be."

"I know." He whispered back, eyes still searching her face, lingering over the twisting scars. "I am. I swear I am."

There was a flickering moment, there in the quiet darkness, the light of the street lamps layering her face in honey light, that made her eyes shine and hair spark a pretty magenta, and even with all her scars and sharpened angles of her face, she was a vision of loveliness.

It was then that Shikamaru realized why she was so good at those missions. She was naturally charming; she oozed innocence, even with the scars and the little ridge that sat between her brows.

 _("She enchants, bewitches," one ANBU operative had said once on a smoke break. It was cold, and their breath billowed in little white clouds around them. His foot had fallen asleep in his shoe and he desperately wished for the heat of a warm bowl of soup. "It's her eyes, really. Doe-eyed innocence, that girl. She could charm a rock to follow her around." Then he'd leered and Shikamaru had pretended like his knuckles weren't bruised the next morning.)_

She was ridiculously pretty. Not Ino pretty with porcelain skin and pretty blue eyes, and not Hinata pretty either with perfect, unblemished skin and beautiful, silky hair; not even Tenten pretty with the large brown eyes and wide, inviting smile.

Sakura was pretty in a way that pulled you in; striking features that hooked you by the navel and made you want to trace every curve, dip and lush arch. Her eyes were large, long-lashed and her lips full and puckered. Her forehead was still a little high, but her face was heart-shaped, high cheekbones sculpted almost cuttingly, jaw just a little rounded.

There was a dash of freckles that dusted over her nose.

 _("Haruno's striking. She makes you look at her just a little longer, to capture just what exactly is captivating about her. It's why she's so good at_ _those_ _missions, if you catch my drift.")_

Every time he saw her, Shikamaru couldn't help but wish she hadn't been quite so pretty, quite so…enchanting.

( _The first time…after, she'd looked ragged. Her lips were chapped, eyes wild, and she was trying to focus on what Ino was saying, but she kept spacing out. She muttered things under her breath, watched the booths around them, her fingers tapping against the wooden table. He watched her eyes harden at the way a man leaned into a grimacing woman. She stood then, interrupting Ino's chatter, and wore a sly smile, a dimple flashing in her cheek. Her hips swayed almost captivatingly, and she looked different then—inviting, catlike in her curiosity—a little spark of lust filling her eyes as she circled her prey. He remembered the way she'd towered over the man, kunai at his neck, and spat in face._

" _Disgraceful," She'd hissed. He whined, blood dripping from his nose. "You should be ashamed of yourself."_

 _Ino hadn't been able to move a muscle._

 _They'd still been thirteen.)_

He didn't say anything though, because he spied the door of her little cottage home behind her. Instead of letting the damn that built behind his tongue loose, he smiled at her, just a little tightly.

If he did it quick enough, she wouldn't notice.

"Sleep tight, Sakura." He told her softly. _Treat her with care,_ Ino had said once, eyes impossibly sad. _Please treat her with care. She's not as strong as you all like to think._ "Choji's invited you for barbeque tomorrow and his mother said that even if he's delayed, we can all still come over."

"I'll bring Ryu!" She called, eyes crinkling.

 _Real smile._ He noticed. _That's a real one, I'm sure of it._

Sakura watched him wave bye, and she let the smile fall a little. Happiness hummed through her veins, filling her with gentle warmth that made her very seams glow with joy. He slunk back into the night like a lazy cat, her eyes never leaving him.

"Maa," She muttered as he turned the corner. "You all worry far too much."

Sakura shook her head, turning back towards the scraped red door with the heavy black knocker. She bent down, knees cracking, to edge the keys from underneath a brick laying at the foot of her door. She frowned a little when she spotted the note from Toya-san, in swift, scribbled ink.

 _Sorry for leaving early, Sakura-chan, my nephew fell grievously ill. I only left when I heard you returned safely, my child. I hope that you are well. I will see you soon, to fatten you up._

("Remember—no fat.")

Gripping the key in her hand, she sighed, knowing that Toya was mostly reliable and it must have been a real emergency for her to have abandoned little Ryu like that. Straightening, she cracked her knuckles, nervous butterflies—a little like nausea, a little like fear—making her swallow hard.

Before she opened the door, she formed a couple of seals, layering genjutsu over her neck and face. There was a part of her, a rational part of her, that told her she was doing it so that she wouldn't scare little Ryu. He'd never seen any of her other scars, not even when he'd begged her, eyes pleading. She'd stoutly refused, every single time. She didn't want him to see the track of regrowth, the pink of new flesh, the white of her thick, curling scars.

The most he'd ever seen was when she lounged in her pajamas, and her legs were shown off, and even then, she'd layered illusion over illusion so he wouldn't see the full extent.

If he were to see…well.

She sported one thick, gruesome scar that traveled from the back of her knee to the curve of her butt, and then thin, slicing ones that wrapped around her ankles, ten silvery lines as coarse as they were slim. She had thick, deep gashes on her knees, a lifetime of being bound, kunai stabbed into her thighs, and then one patch of burnt skin that had been from the time with the acid—

She gripped her keys.

 _You don't want him to see because you're scared,_ the other voice purred inside her mind. _You're scared he won't recognize you anymore—not between the scars and insanity—_

She ignored it and this time, let the genjutsu settle over her skin, a miasma of deception clogging her pores.

The only one who she let see everything, had been Kiba. And that had been after months and months and months of pestering until she finally couldn't _take it anymore_ and stripped down to her underwear, parading around the apartment until he'd had his full. He'd cried into her hair, and held her for an hour after, refusing to let go.

 _("I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"Tears soaked the hair at her nape. She let him draw her closer, saying nothing. "I'll be here. I'm here. I'm—here—now.")_

Kiba, Sakura winced, would definitely _not_ like her new ones.

Sakura edged the key into the old lock, jimmying a little, before it opened with a grunt.

There was a scamper of footsteps, a skid of movement, and then she heard little pattering footfalls, hastening towards the door. He appeared in the hallways, green eyes shining bright, smile widening on his cherubic face. His little tuft of black curls fell around his ears haphazardly, and they only mussed more when he threw himself at her.

" _Nee-chan!"_ He shouted, arms gripping her sides. "Nee-chan you're home! You're home… _finally!"_

Sakura's laugh sounded more like a sob than anything else as she dropped to her knees and dragged her little brother closer. She was vaguely aware of the door shutting behind her as she slowly began to acclimatize with the world she'd long since put out of her mind.

A month had been all it took to rob her of the warmth she felt now, layering her skin, filling her up like a hot drink on a cold day, heating her very soul.

 _(She wasn't in that crate anymore—she wasn't a witness to the atrocity that had befallen her teammate.)_

She breathed in the smell of his lemon shampoo, the faint hint of sweat and the warmth of his skin, concentrating, concentrating.

Her anchors were all here:

Ryu—her little brother. Three and a half, with a gap in the middle of his milk teeth and sparkling green eyes. He liked the soap operas on TV and the slapstick humor shows. A little mischievous, a little reckless; he'd gotten in trouble with the grocery store last month for _borrowing, Nee-chan, I swear I was gonna give the tomatoes back!_ And kicking one of his schoolyard bullies in the shin.

Her little, rugged home in the outer ward of the civilian district—the smell of jasmine and pressed laundry met her nose and she felt tears burn her eyes. Her mother loved to leave rosemary bunches in closets (to ward the moths away, Sacchan) when she was alive and Sakura had kept up the habit with jasmine instead. If she lifted her eyes from Ryu-chan's curls, she'd see that the walls were worn in and the paint a little cracked, and once, when she'd been fifteen, she'd let Ryu draw all over the corridor. The scribbled bunnies and lopsided cacti were still there in all their smudged crayola glory.

Her hands—they weren't gripping kunai or branches or loose dirt or her katana. They were free; trembling and shaking, but still free. They were the hands full of callouses and scars, the hands that Ryu loved to trace with baby-soft milky skin and wondrous green eyes. ( _Will I have hands like you one day, Nee-chan?)_. They were the hands that loved—healed—instead of killed.

And when Sakura felt she could breathe a little deeper, she smiled into her brother's hair, swallowed down the tears and whispered that she was home now, that he didn't have to worry. He squeezed her tighter, and she felt the front of her jacket begin to dampen.

She was home—a little chapped and jagged around the edges, but home. Home and still sane of mind—of heart.

"Have you been good for Ms. Toya-san?" She asked quietly, drawing back on her haunches. Ryu-chan beamed at her, hands still clutched around her shoulders and she felt a little more than broken as she stared into his luminous green eyes and blinding smile.

"Up! Nee-chan! Up!" He tugged at her jacket. " _Please?"_

She smiled again, impossibly soft and picked him up gently, settling him on her hip. She ignored the jarring from her injury, and kept him close as he wrapped his arms around her neck and pressed his face against her throat. She closed her eyes, keeping him closer, to remind her that she was her, that she was safe, that _he_ was safe.

Ryu nuzzled her hair, and pressed feathery kisses to her cheeks, a bright smile framing the innocent green eyes that followed her every movement as if she were his entire world.

"Yeah! She even gave me ch—chocolate?" Sakura nodded and he ploughed through his stutter. "Chocolate cake as a good boy gift! She said there's some more in the fridge for later. For you, Nee-chan!"

Sakura chuckled and let herself into the small, cozy kitchen that sported several, battered, wooden chairs and a heavy mahogany table. It was a place where Sakura spent most of her youth. She remembered her Mother's strong hands—from toiling in the fields—and her Father's crinkling newspaper, the words lighting up in the pale sunlight streaming into their quiet home.

"Did Kiba come over before he left?" Sakura asked, setting her little brother down on the wooden counter, smiling a little as his chubby hands roved over the age-old grooves.

Ryu shook his head and continued to watch her as she moved around the kitchen. It was an old dance; she hung the katana on the hook over the door, untied her hair, letting it flow to the small of her back, and yawned, shaking herself out.

 _Remember, remember, remember,_ she willed herself. _This is your home. This is your home. Nothing will hurt you here._

"Another mission, before?" She prompted, blinking once, twice, before shaking her head a little. She needed to _get out of her funk_ before little Ryu-chan noticed anything. Her brother sighed before stretching his hands over his head in a display of childish frustration, pouting.

 _Home. Home. Home._ She repeated. _This is home._

"No, Nee-chan. Kiba-nii said he had _clan duties._ " Ryu scowled as Sakura threw her head back and laughed.

She was just grateful it sounded less bitter than before.

"Oh Ryu-chan. Kiba can't always come over to play, you know." She tilted her head, pausing in the middle of stretching to grab the salt, watching his rosy mouth pucker further into a frown.

"I _know_ , Nee-chan. I'm not a _baby."_ Ryu pouted, crossing his tiny arms over his small chest.

A sly, foxlike smile slipped onto her face and she stopped preparing the food she was going to cook.

"No, not Ryu-chan." She whispered theatrically.

He nodded, eyes fierce.

"Ryu-chan is a fierce, brave, loyal shinobi! Isn't that right?" She giggled softly, a smile stretching her lips further as she saw him beam up at her.

"Of course, nee-chan—ah! No!" Ryu shrieked, face screwing up in happy terror as Sakura danced her fingers across his sides, laughing crazed giggles.

"Sakura- _nee_!" he whined when she moved away, arms reaching out to grab her. He crawled over the counter and twisted himself over her shoulders, latching his arms around her neck, little pudgy legs locking at her waist. "That's no fair!"

"Shinobi aren't fair, Ryu-chan," Sakura smiled fondly, checking the rice cooker Toya had given her last Christmas. It was an old one—a little rusty, a little bumpy—but it worked just fine and cooked rather quickly, always a bonus after a long mission.

It looked like it hadn't been used in a while, and Sakura was glad that Toya hadn't put it another portion of rice—the last time, the stupid thing had gone off too late once she came home and they'd had overcooked rice for dinner. Ryu had _not_ been a happy camper and that particular tantrum would be remembered for all eternity.

She could feel his chubby-cheeked pout against the base of her neck, his soft babyskin sliding against hers. His grubby little hands grabbed at the base of her rose locks and pulled lightly, playing with the long, silky strands.

"Sakura-nee's hair is the prettiest." He yawned against her skin, and she could imagine his innocent eyes crinkling in exhaustion, his brow furrowing as his pout deepened.

 _He waited for me,_ Sakura thought. _He was worried I wouldn't come home._

The first time she'd ever set eyes on her baby brother, he'd been a wriggling, pink mess of newborn limbs and half-hearted screams. She hadn't been half as impressed—he looked rather like a potato with his smudged features and newly formed face—but when he looked at her with blotchy gray-blue eyes, his cries stuttering on his lips, she'd felt love creep up into her heart, warming her chest.

It was a fierce love—devoted and adoring, unable to be contested. Nothing came before Ryu, not now, not ever.

It was moments like these—when he whispered his affections and compliments and hugged her tighter than normal around the waist, her shirt still wet with tears—that she felt that fierce, everlasting devotion well up in her all over again.

"Thank you, Ryu-chan." She said quietly, even though it pained her.

 _(It had been her hair—her beautiful, prized, locks—that had landed her in that ANBU division. That and her baby face and her bottle-green eyes, the size of saucers in her pretty face.)_

Stirring the curry, and occasionally checking in on the rice, she hummed appreciatively as Ryu mumbled and moaned about his day. She learned that he had made her a new drawing in art today, and that Toya had already put it up on the fridge— _of our family, nee-chan; Kiba, you and me!—_ for her to see.

She listened to his tiny voice, comforting and melodic and let herself breathe. Her shoulders loosened, the strain behind her eyes washed away, the feeling of the pounding headache beginning to thrum at her temples dissolving at the sound of little Ryu-chan's soft, whining voice.

"Sakura-nee?"

"Hm?" she mumbled, checking the rice again and noticing that it was nearly done. She'd have to take it out soon—the damned thing never quite got it right in the last minutes.

"Sakura-nee." Ryu repeated, more firmly.

Immediately, Sakura began to worry.

It was a given that when children weren't happy or carefree, she began to look for what was wrong. Ryu was a normally happy child. He was well-behaved and empathetic, and he ate all his vegetables—even his sticky foods, the ones he hated so much—if he was talking to her in such a serious, cautious tone, something must have gone wrong.

The tension that had bled away returned with a numbing vengeance. Her hackles rose, and she thought of all the things that could have gone wrong during the months that she was away—someone could have picked on him, Toya might have not fed him or hit him or _hurt him_ —god help the old woman if she _dared_ lay a hand on Ryu because she would need _spiritual intervention_ if that were the case.

So Sakura calmed, steeling herself for the very worst. "Yes baby—is everything alright?"

She kept her voice steady and thrumming, like the way her ANBU superiors did when the rookies began to freak out. The trick was well-used, and had served her well with Kiba as her partner. He was violent and tended to be rash and impulsive—something that even the six-month ANBU training courses hadn't managed to beat out of him, much to the displeasure of Boar-taichou.

Ryu hesitated, and for a split second, Sakura contemplated (quite calmly, she assured herself) all the ways she could murder the person who hurt her little brother. She was skilled, enormously so, and there was little she couldn't access with her level of security clearance.

It would _not_ be clean or neat and she knew just the places where she could strike to bleed out the most, the ways the flesh on their bones wouldn't take away any life force when cut in the manner she chose—

"We talked about—about gee-nee-oh-loh-gee in school today." Her little dragon whispered into her neck.

She both relaxed and stiffened.

"Genealogy? The study of family ancestries and histories?" She questioned, slowly, cautiously.

Ryu nodded against her, chin hooking on her shoulder.

Sakura hadn't ever quite…addressed their parents before. It hadn't been something she wished to relive. They were immortalized in her mind—tall and beautiful and kind and oh-so-loving—and the memories she had with them were some she did not wish to tarnish. Ryu had been too young to remember them—only three weeks old—and there were no other relatives to remind of their mother and father's lives.

She had worried about it before. Whether or not Ryu would be upset at her for keeping all she knew about them to herself. Whether he found her guilty for their deaths. _Why_ they had died.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

Sakura had tried, _so hard,_ to have a male presence in Ryu's life. She'd been counting (funnily enough) on Naruto and Kakashi but—after Sasuke left, so had they—and she'd only had Ryu, and Ryu only had her. It had been when he was two months old that she realized that she was going to go steadily insane—and broke if she didn't _do_ something.

So she'd enlisted her fellow operative—his name had been Soyu or Sai or something of the sort—to babysit once in a while and thankfully, he agreed.

She hadn't been as close back then to the Konoha Eleven and she and Ino were still not on speaking terms.

It had been fine, of course, until she'd discovered just how _weird_ Sai was. More than once, Sakura had come home to find Sai just…watching her baby brother, taking notes, mirroring expressions of emotion on his face.

She had asked him about it once, hands curling into her palms, and he'd looked at her strangely for a minute, before poofing away on the spot. She hadn't really seen Sai since, and to be frank, at thirteen and utterly _lost_ , that had been the straw that broke the camel's back.

But, that was a different story.

"Sakura-nee, the curry needs to be stirred." Ryu reminded her urgently, as the pan simmered dangerously high.

"Oh! Yes. Yes, thank you sweetie." She started, immediately stirring the wooden spoon in the thick, gooey sauce and spiced meats. The smell of good food and warm rice filled the air and Sakura felt herself calm.

She was an assassin—an older sister—for Sage's sake. There was little that she couldn't compartmentalize and take apart later.

"So, genealogy?" Sakura hummed, "What did you learn, darling?"

"I learnt that Miya-chan has three older brothers. They're ninja too! And Raido-kun has a baby sister with pretty eyes—but you've got prettier eyes than her nee-chan—and the teacher _also_ has an older sister! I told him that she wasn't as cool as you and he _laughed_ —meanie." Ryu said, carding chubby fingers through her lanky hair.

She had to take a shower—the sponge bath the nurses had given her wasn't enough to clean away the grimy residue of the base, and there was nothing that she hated more than to let Ryu touch the _disgusting_ part of her life.

"Honey, not the hair." Sakura chided him gently. Ryu whined a little, but let the strands go, and nuzzled his face further into the back of her neck.

"But…I only had Sakura-nee…" Ryu's voice was muffled, but even then Sakura could hear the chord of loss echoing in his words. Her heart dropped to the soles of her feet. "Why don't we have an Okaa-chan…or an Otou-chan? Is it…is it something we did—"

" _No!"_ the shout burst from her lips before she could temper her tone, and Ryu recoiled, if only a little. "No, baby, no. This…it's…"

She sighed, and checked the curry and the rice that simmered away in the cooker. The little green light had finally sparked, and she took out the plug, and opened the top to let it air.

 _The meat is going to be tender enough to slide right off the bones,_ she thought absently, her brow furrowing deeper.

Ryu had wrapped his legs even closer around her, and his arms squeezed her shoulders even tighter. His little face was once again buried deep into the crook of her neck, and he had wrapped his fingers around the strands of her long hair.

Carefully, she maneuvered little Ryu so that he was sitting down on his high chair, hands and feet in proper position. His eyes were downcast, and his lip trembled as he clutched the edge of his seat.

Her heart broke to see him like this, but Sakura knew that this day would one day come.

Taking a seat in the rickety chair next to him, she reached for his face, and tilted his chin so his eyes could reach hers. His hands immediately searched her out, and she made an _oomph_ when he launched himself at her.

He let out a sniffle. "Did they not love us, Sakura-nee?"

"No." she said softly. "No, baby. They loved us very, very, very much."

"Why did they leave?"

There was a lump in her throat as she tried to speak, hoping that her voice wasn't as hoarse as it sounded to her. Ryu needed her to be strong. She couldn't allow herself to panic or to scream—he would break in the face of her insanity.

And Ryu would not be allowed to break.

"Okaa-chan was so happy to meet you, Ryuiji-chan. She sang to her stomach, and called you her little sunflower—you always moved when she sat in the long, heated sun. It drove her a little crazy." Sakura laughed a little, memories tasting bittersweet on her tongue.

As she looked at her otouto's inquisitive green eyes, his chubby cheeks, and soft, downy black hair, she hoped she had done her mother proud.

There was so much she wanted to tell them about him. That he combed his hair the wrong way at first, because he wanted to figure it out himself instead of her telling him. That he hated orange juice, but loved lychees. That he wrinkled his nose at bullies and never pulled his punches when the mean boys at the end of the street made fun of him only having a shinobi older sister.

That she loved Ryu, and there wouldn't ever be a time where it waned.

"And Otou-chan?" Ryu asked eagerly, eyes shining bright. His fingers clutched her shirt tighter. "What was Otou-chan like?"

"He was grumpy." Sakura confessed with a laugh. "Especially in the mornings. He worked as a carpenter, and he made the little crib that's in the cellar—the one with all the wooden carvings of the dragons. Ojii-chan helped too, before he passed away."

"…Really?"

He looked so eager for knowledge that Sakura was suddenly struck with the sensation that had prevailed with her throughout his babyhood. He would never know their parents like Sakura did. He would never know them as anything more than ideas, fictions that pranced in his mind like ill-described illusions.

(And it was the same for— _NarutoSasukeKakashi—_ how much did they guess? How much did they agonize? Sakura had some inkling, now.)

"They told me after I graduated from the academy. Kaa-chan was overjoyed. They'd tried for kids, after and before me, but she…she nearly always lost them." Tears came to her eyes and she batted them away before Ryu could see.

She remembered those happy months vividly.

How joyous her mother had looked when they had told her she would be getting a new little brother or sister. How her father slaved away, back bent over his working table, hands tracing away at the bendable wood, muttering to himself about the necessary carvings. They both flipped through baby pamphlets even though they'd been through it all before when Sakura had been born.

She remembered herself, barely twelve, singing to her little brother, rubbing her mother's bulging belly in the low light of the afternoon sun. She remembered the names they had picked out. The flower names _(to match little Sakura-chan)_ for the girls and the solid, brusque names for boys.

"And they loved us?" Ryu whispered, settling better into her lap, letting his face rest buried in her chest.

"Yes, Ryu-chan. They loved us very, _very_ much." Sakura reassured, ignoring the pain in her chest and the tears burning behind her closed eyelids.

"What did they like?" He asked quietly.

"Okaa-chan loved flowers. All kinds of flowers. But especially the lilies and the sunflowers that came out during the hot summers in our garden. She liked the color blue and she never raised her voice. Her name was Asami and she was the daughter of a farmer from the land of rice. She always missed her home, though. And she never forgot to sing the lullaby—you know the special one—to me." Sakura threaded her fingers with soft black curls and lifted him so he could better hear her heartbeat.

"Otou-chan liked winters. He liked the heavy rains and the floods that the village sometimes suffers through. His name was Gorou, and he was a grumpy old grouch. But a lovable one. He loved snow most of all. One of my oldest memories is rolling in the snow with him and seeing his bright smile as we threw snowballs at each other. He liked that we could drink hot chocolate and tell scary stories near the fire and cuddle for warmth."

Ryu sniffled quietly, and Sakura said nothing as he buried his face into her chest and clutched at her tighter. His little sobs wracked his body, and Sakura carded a hand through his hair and held him closer.

"Hush, Ryu." She said softly. "Hush, my little boy."

"I—I miss them, nee-chan." Anguished green eyes met with her own. "I miss my mama. My papa."

"I know, sweetheart." Sakura murmured, settling her chin on his head. "I know."

He breathed softly, and she could feel the breath puff against her neck. She began to hum, quietly at first, and then with gaining crescendo as she rocked him back and forth. It was an older song, a melody she'd picked from her mother's music sheets, dusty and decaying in the basement.

His fingers curled, digging into her sides deeply, but she did not utter a word.

She sang until he fell asleep, breathing softly, the trails of his tears having dried from his cheeks.

* * *

This is the edited version of the chapter! I hope you enjoy it :)


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

Status: Incomplete.

A/N: Updated version.

* * *

[There were times when she felt like she was going insane. Times when the clockwork in her head didn't work quite how she wanted it to and the world _lurched._ ]

* * *

She washed herself obsessively.

Her hands smoothed over her puckered flesh, and ruined skin, and rubbed away the dirt, the grime, the touch. Red lines appeared over pale skin, and she felt the burn of her nails but she didn't care. She must have used half a gallon of soap as she scored her fingers over her skin over, and over, and over, and over again. Her hair was neatly parted, and then scrubbed with so much viciousness, her scalp began to tingle.

In the bathroom, she reassembled herself. In the bathroom, she reinvented herself. In the bathroom, the thread of sanity laxed.

 _I'm an older sister here._ She told herself, _kind, gentle, understanding. I belong to someone here, and someone belongs to me._

She dragged her fingers through her hair and tied it loosely at the nape of her neck. The locks were dry and soft and smelt of apple shampoo. It was the only cheap one that kept her hair shiny and healthy. Her face had been wan, and waxy; withdrawn and too pale. Now, her cheeks were red from the shower, and there was a gleam of obsessive concentration in her eyes.

She spread the moisturizer over her face, and rubbed it in, carefully, slowly. Sometimes, when she felt like she was going mad, and her thoughts wandered dangerously, she sat herself down in front of the mirror, and rubbed the lotion into her skin. Her touch felt foreign to herself—even now.

Sakura didn't want to look at herself any longer, the disgust she felt at the sight of her own body made her throat close, like a noose around a guilty traitor.

But as her hands shook, and she thought of the man's mouth between her legs, and her own voice filtering out in the dark room, she knew she had to _clean herself._

She dragged the razorblade over her skin, nicking any loose hairs, and running over her legs and thighs with soap and tweezers. She didn't have much hair on her body any more—the acid burns, the scars and remnants of old fights had taken care of that for her, but she had to be clean.

To be perfect.

Sakura pulled the pair of long, comfortable sweatpants over her waist and tied a neat bow around her middle. The soft, cotton-blue shirt came next, and she felt calmer as she stared at the long-haired, green-eyed girl in the mirror and breathed.

 _(I'm home. I'm home. I'm home.)_

She looked over herself, top to bottom, and then bottom to top. Her toenails were neat, and clipped, and had a fresh sheen of clear polish on them. Her fingernails as well; clipped tight to the nailbed, with a glimmer of green polish that remained to this day her favorite. Her eyebrows were shapely once more, and the sparse hairs around her mouth were gleaned before they could fully form.

She was clean.

Of course, she could still feel the lingering touch. The brush of a ghost against the nape of her neck, the sting of a slap against her cheek. Rough, unguided fingers jabbing at her thighs.

She curled in on herself; her arms came around her slender waist, and her chin tucked into her chest. She could feel his hands on her breasts, stomach, thighs. She could feel the metal of the kunai on her throat, and the bitter fear that had filtered through her at the thought of never coming home.

"You're fine," she whispered to herself. "You're home now."

Even the reassurance of her whispered words—a luxury she wouldn't have allowed herself on the field—didn't manage to calm her.

There was a nervous anxiety that thrummed underneath her skin, and she could feel the nausea and dread building up in her stomach.

 _(There were days like these ones, days where she couldn't focus, and her concentration was shot and all she wanted to do was_ _ **scream**_ _—)_

She shook herself.

The chill of the night nipped at her skin as she made her way through the darkened hallways of her home. She stopped before she reached her room. Opening the door quietly, she peered into Ryu's dark room, blinking to adjust to the pitch blackness.

He was sound asleep in his little cot, a hand grasping the twisted sheets tightly, the other wrapped around a dinosaur plushie. His mouth was open, and she could hear his soft, measured breaths from the doorway. His hair was a mess of riotous curls and she knew it would only be worse when he woke the next morning.

As she gazed on him, she felt warm. She felt safe, like everything that had happened to her, everything she'd had to do this past month was okay now. It was okay because Ryu was happy, and safe, and alive, and she'd come back to him.

She dared not think of the boy whose sister would never see him again.

 _("Do you promise?" gray eyes pleaded, "Do you promise to keep him safe?")_

The bite of her teeth in her lip shook her from her thoughts.

Turning, she closed the door behind her, not letting it _click_ shut. If Ryu needed her, he still wasn't exactly tall enough to reach the doorknob and she didn't want to waste any time in reaching him if there was an emergency.

Her room was a mess of chaos and Sakura breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped into her room. Piles of dirty clothes sat, stacked, on her desk chair and medical books had slumped over to the floor; her floor was worse. Dirty socks, and filthy nightshirts—smelling of musky sweat and fear—lined her bedside. Teacups sat on her bedside table and the smell of old tea permeated her room.

She made her way past the mess deftly, and reached her closet, dodging the tumbled clothes that came hurtling out. Sakura knocked over pencils and books and reports as she searched for what she was looking for.

Her fingers caught on a soft, heavy knitted sweater, and she smiled. The pinch of ruined flesh made her wince, but she didn't care. It was probably the only clean thing in her wardrobe at this point, and even though it had been sitting there for a month, it smelled like Kiba; freshly cut grass, dog, and sunshine earth.

She brought it to her nose, and breathed deep. Her shoulders fell, and she brought it closer to her, the tension in her frame relaxing. She stood there, in the half-formed moonlight, Kiba's scent around her, and the block in the back of her throat receded, if only a little.

Sakura brought it over her head, careful not to nick it on any protruding clothes hangers, or zippers. It settled over her like a warm blanket, in all the right places, and she felt the warmth of comfort filling her like a golden hum.

She was tempted to lay back, and close her eyes, to enjoy the calm that had threaded over her; a rarity. But her muscles screamed, and although her body was lax, her mind still thrummed with anxious malice.

The yearn for release, for a second of calm, of quiet nagged at her until she was already moving back to the living room, and settling in the familiar forms of her kata.

Her arms rose high above her, and she arched her spine, before letting herself drift into a relaxed pose.

She'd keep up the genjutsu, for practice, she told herself.

She ran through each and every Kata in the standard issue taijutsu course that she'd learned in the academy, and then began to stretch herself further. She did all the _Dancing River, Dancing Stone_ katas. She completed _Sands of Dune_ and then went on to try a stance she'd learned from Lee, when she heard a knock at her door.

Adrenaline exploded through her.

Her breath hitched, and the feeling over her hair brushed against the nape of her neck, and instantly, she was on guard. The senbon she'd slipped in her sleeve bit against her skin, and she moved quietly to the door. Anger, and fear, hammered through her as she saw that Toya had clogged the peephole again, and she swore to herself that she'd have words with the woman.

Every inch of her body was taught as she opened the door. One false move, one quick flash of metal would be all it took before the senbon would find its way into the soft skin of the intruder's throat.

Her teeth bared themselves at her snarl; a tall, muscled figure stood at her door, nearly reaching the top of her doorframe.

Relief, sharp and bitter as tears ran through her when she realized who it was.

A grimacing smile filled her face.

"You're back." Kiba breathed, brown eyes wide. He smelled of sweat and metal, and she could tell he hadn't washed. There was a rushing of fur and then Akamaru moved into the light of her home. He barked jovially at her and Sakura made a soothing hushing noise.

Kiba stepped inside, closing the door behind them.

Sakura felt oddly nervous, and so her mouth began to run. "Ryu's asleep, so be—"

Kiba's tight embrace and the trembling of his hands against her shoulder blades cut off her quiet words quickly. His face buried itself in the crook of her neck, and Sakura would have flinched and recoiled if this was anyone other than Kiba.

"I was worried, Sakura." He muttered gruffly, voice muffled by her hair and his sweater. He squeezed her closer to him until her ribs creaked. "A month. You were gone for a month when you told me a _week_ at most—and when Tsunade said you were in the hospital—I—"

His voice cracked.

"I'm fine," Sakura whispered back, holding him back just as fiercely. She felt love, as fierce and warm as for Ryu rush through her, and as he whimpered, hot tears trailing down her neck, she finally lifted her hands to clutch at him. "I'm okay, Kiba. I…made it through. I got back."

Akamaru circled her, nudging her sides with his big black nose, snuffling wetly at her flanks.

"I smelled your blood on her." He said, voice hushed and broken. "I smelled the infection—God, what happened—"

"I'm home, Kiba." She said. "I'm home, that's all that matters now."

He was quiet for a while and she let him. They stood, swaying slightly, in the entrance of her home, Kiba pressed up against her, tears wetting the collar of her sweater, hands trembling on her back. She was clutching him just as tightly, taking deep breaths, smelling the musk of sweat, fresh grass and sunshine earth that was _Kiba_ seep through her bones, settling in her skin.

She had missed him, desperately. Missed his steady hands, and smart mouth, his twinkling brown eyes and rash, violent tongue.

There was a moment when she thought he wouldn't let go of her, but he pulled away, slowly, and blinked at her. She reached up, and he let her brush away the tears that made his brown eyes crusty and red. He sniffed a couple of times, standing still as she checked him over for bruises or injuries and once satisfied, he leaned down and scooped her up, cradling her in his arms.

" _Kiba!"_ she hissed at his sly grin. "Put me down—I'm not an—an infant!"

"Naw. I kinda like it. Having you in my arms." He grinned, pretending like his grip wasn't tighter than usual, like Akamaru hadn't kept his hackles raised, watching the door and windows for any sudden movement.

Sakura rolled her eyes, but the warmth still coursed through her like a warm fire. "Those lines still working for you, Inuzuka?"

"Of course and maybe if you'd let them, they'd work on you." He chuckled, the sound reverberating deep in his chest, through her skin, reaching her bones.

God, how she'd _missed_ him.

He took her to the kitchen and then glanced down at her, laughing quietly (a feat for him) at her scowling expression. "I've got nothing but time to woo you, Sakura-hime."

"Oh shove it," She rolled her eyes, smacking his rib with a flick of her elbow.

He wheezed and Sakura giggled at his exaggerated choking.

"You _wound_ me, hime."

"I saw you use those lines on that Suna chunnin literally last month, Kiba- _kun_." Sakura said, wiggling out of his arms, making sure not to go too fast or too far away.

The Inuzuka Clan were, unsurprisingly, overprotective of their partners—both animal _and_ human. She'd learned the hard way that if she didn't want Kiba hovering over her shoulder at her shifts at the hospital or to sleep in her home for the next six months, she'd let him touch and smell her at any time necessary.

So she didn't particularly mind that his hands followed her, latching onto her tiny waist, his warm chest not much behind.

Akamaru yipped at her and she cooed, leaning down to press a kiss against his head.

"Were you a good boy?" She giggled, ignoring Kiba's eye roll. Akamaru yipped only a little louder (Sakura had been _pissed_ when they'd woken up a one-year old Ryu and she'd had to deal with a colicky baby for the entire night and they dared not go louder than a shout when he slept) and bussed against her cheek. "I bet you _were,_ sweet boy."

She was the only one who the ninken let baby him. Kiba claimed it was that he loved the attention from a _pretty lady_ and Sakura elbowed him in the gut.

"Curry? I made it before, but Ryu-chan fell asleep on me again." She shook her head, smiling and Kiba hummed an affirmative and settled his chin on her shoulder, the bone digging into her soft flesh.

They stood like that for a while; Kiba pressed up against her and Sakura humming softly as she stirred the curry to warm up and heated the rice cooker once again, this time setting it to 'warm up' instead of 'cook.' There was something about Kiba that reduced her to a child again, an innocent, happy girl that only felt simple things instead of the darkness inside her head.

"How was your—"

"You smell of someone else." He said quietly.

Sakura stilled. The curry sizzled in the pan and Akamaru began to whine as the smell of the meat wafted through the air and reached his sensitive nose. The rice cooker beeped but no one made any move to open it.

"Is that so?" She hummed.

"Don't play stupid with me." His lips brushed her neck and Sakura sighed, turning off the pan and reaching over to grab that plates she'd put out before.

Opening the rice cooker, she began to speak. "You know they call me every now and then, you _know this_ Kiba."

He muttered something in her shoulder.

"What was that?" She asked sharply, spooning curry and steaming rice onto their plates, quickly and efficiently.

She let Akamaru have a little of the leftover meat and he guzzled it down quickly, before nudging her side gratefully.

"You know they don't really ever let you leave that division, Sakura."

"We are not discussing this now." Her voice was hard but it still wavered as she turned to face Kiba's angry brown. "I did what I had to do to complete the mission. You _know_ that it's one of my talents—"

"It didn't have to be!" He suddenly shouted.

Sakura's eyes narrowed and Kiba swallowed, not paying attention to her darkening mood.

"If that fucker you call your sensei—"

" _Language, Kiba!"_

"—Would have even for a _fucking_ second, trained you then—"

Sakura gripped his shoulder tight, tighter than she'd ever let herself on anyone who hadn't been an enemy and his dark, angry eyes snapped down to hers.

He towered over her now, she realized. At thirteen he'd been scrawny, with knobby knees and knocking elbows, but now, at seventeen, he was a good two heads taller than her and quite a bit wider. His shaggy hair licked the base of his neck and the red tattoos on his cheeks seemed to make his scowl all the more feral.

"Kiba." His eyes only darkened further and she knew that this was going to be one of _those_ nights, where he spent the time cussing out her 'excuse-for-a-team' and threatening to go over to the Hatake residence to 'pay-a-fucking-visit-to-the-friend-killer'.

She'd ignored him for a week the first time he'd shouted that nasty name at her. Her sensei was a private man and she didn't want him to be exposed, unless he himself wanted it. Even if a niggling part of her was burning with curiosity—why did they call him the friend-killer?

"Kiba, listen to _me._ " Sakura shook him. She took a deep breath as he trailed a large hand down her spine, pressing his thick fingers against her vertebrae, as if checking she was all there, all _intact._ "It happened."

His eyes flared.

"I had to do it. It was the only way. You _know_ why. We've talked about this Kiba." And suddenly all the fight had gone out of her and Sakura was tired.

Tired from her mission and tired from recounting thousands of stories about her dead parents to an eager three year-old, tired from watching one of her teammates torn apart in the gruesome ways in her memories. Tired from remembering the yakuza's sticky hands and his hot breath drifting over her collarbone, between her legs, her chest.

"I know." Kiba spoke roughly now, as if preventing himself from tearing something apart. "I know, Sakura. I just get—I just get so _angry_ when—"

He seemed to struggle with words until he finally gave up and tugged her onto his lap, sitting them both down. He grabbed a fork and jabbed it into the curry, lifting it to her mouth.

Sakura raised an eyebrow, bottle-green eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Did you eat when you got home?" His eyes were dark on hers.

Her silence was answer enough.

"You need to stop forgetting, Sakura." He whispered.

She looked away from him, ashamed.

"Eat." The fork nudged her lips, "I'll feel better if I'm taking care of you."

They—well _she_ —ate in silence, the only conversation passing through eye contact and the soft touches Kiba pressed against her silky skin.

After she was done, he picked her up (again, with the infant thing—but Sakura knew when to push and this was not one of those times) and trudged towards her room. Kiba undid the drawstring of her sweatpants, pushed her sweater over her head and tugged her socks away from her ankles.

He let her undo her bra quickly, but then his hands were back on her skin, slipping underneath her tank top, checking, roving, for any injuries.

Sakura was glad that she didn't lift the genjutsu because Kiba would have gone on a murdering rampage and frankly, Sakura didn't feel like losing her partner to the Yakuza again. One teammate had been enough for her, thank you very much.

Once satisfied, he tucked her into bed, Akamaru following behind them and settling at the base of the wooden structure, a growl telling her he was watching, waiting, for anything that could happen.

Kiba unlaced his shoes, undid his pants and slid out of his shirt until he stood in his loose boxers, toeing off socks and undoing his hit-ate, before slipping into bed.

"Sorry." He whispered against her skin, before lifting her up and sending her sprawling across his chest with a light oomph.

He grinned when she sighed.

"I know how it is, Kiba. Just let your instincts do their thing." She mumbled drowsily into his bare chest.

She fell asleep to his caressing hands and his muttered sleep talk.

 _She was home._

* * *

This is the updated version!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

* * *

Sasuke knew that he should have been happier when Orochimaru had called him. He knew that he should have had some sort of sick, ugly glory when his teacher told him he had exceeded his expectations.

But as he looked into the sickly-pale face of the snake Sannin, those golden eyes watching his every move with a sick perverseness, Sasuke just felt a strange numbness.

He had accomplished it.

He had overpassed one of the legendary Sannin in barely three years, thanks to his sharingan and determination, but he still felt numb.

"Congratulations, Sasuke." Orochimaru's serpentine voice slithered out, and if Sasuke were accustomed to showing emotion to the older man, he would've shuddered in disgust. "You have overpassed both my expectation and skill. I believe you are ready to take on your brother, if you so choose."

A cold rage slid through the numbness, leaving him with a raw, aching hatred that burned through his apathy and strengthened his resolve.

And then once again, Sasuke _knew_ why.

(Why he had to give up sunshine and controlled happiness, pink hair and bright green eyes, ramen contests and lazy teachers—because)

He was an avenger. He was a reaper of destruction, made to thread despair and cruelty into the heart of his brother. His blood craved the spilling of Itachi's. He longed to hear the crunch of his bones under his fists, to see the rage and helplessness he imagined his brother would feel when he finally killed him.

Sasuke's eyes gleamed in the low light and if anyone dared to look closer, they would see the minute lifting of his upper lip, curling into a determined rage.

As Orochimaru continued to speak of his achievements, Sasuke planned.

He would have to get rid of the Sannin.

Perhaps, he thought fleetingly of watery tanks and fiery red and orange hair, he would have to acquire…tools.

* * *

"Ryu-chan," His older sister ran a hand through his hair and he nuzzled into her hand, "Aren't you hungry? Kiba got you some of those ribs you like."

Her green eyes were calm and happy, something that Ryu loves to see when she's home. He's missed her so much and while he knows that Sakura-nee has a lot of work to do— _to protect us, to feed us, to show our loyalty_ —he doesn't always understand why _she_ is the one who gets the missions that are at least one month long. But for now, tucked into his sister's arms, watching Kiba as he shovels food into his mouth nearly at Uncle Choji's rate, he's beyond happy.

(Because he hates when she comes home smelling of Iron, a tired smile on her face and trembling hands, the katana on her back looking slick—but he smiles anyways because he knows Sakura-nee _needs_ him.)

"Ryu-chan?" His sister prodded again, tugging at the ends of his hair.

"I'm a little hungry, Nee-chan. But I want your curry instead." He burrowed deeper into her arms, giggling when Sakura laughed heartily behind him.

"Kiba and I finished it yesterday but we can always make some tonight—if you want?" Sakura asked.

Ryu turned to look into his sister's face better and nodded furiously. "Yeah! And we can eat the chocolate cake that Ms. Toya-san left too!"

His sister's mouth twists into a soft smile and Ryu feels incredibly proud of himself.

Sakura hasn't been happy in the years that he's been alive. Ryu knows, because Kiba-niichan told him, that it's because of her team—a (fucking) scarecrow, a moron and a traitor. (Kiba's words not his). So Ryu had taken it upon himself to make his sister happy.

He had asked her once what had happened to her team because "Kiba-niichan still has Aunt Hinata and Uncle Shino, but Nee-chan, where are my uncles on your side of the family?"

His sister's eyes had turned glassy and she looked up at the ceiling to blink them away before she cupped his chubby cheeks with calloused hands and a soft smile. "My team is a little damaged, a little hurt but…" Her eyes had gone unfocused and Ryu's heart immediately began to beat faster in his chest, "But, they're finding themselves. I'm always going to be here for them, they've just got to remember they've got a home here in Konoha, with me."

After that, Ryu had understood Kiba's anger and rage at his sister's team. Even Ryu himself didn't really want them to come back. Not because Sakura-nee didn't deserve it, but because they had hurt her _so_ much. They had taken the light out of those calm green eyes and Ryu will always remember the days when his older sister cried in the bathroom, pretending she was taking a long time to get ready for her rounds at the hospital, Kiba fisting his hands in the other room, plastering on a smile over his rage.

And so, Ryu decided that if this team was going to come back, they would not only have to get Kiba-niichan's seal of approval, but also _his._ Because there was _no_ way that Ryu was going to let people like a scarecrow, a moron and a traitor near his sister without them proving themselves.

Multiple times.

Until Kiba-niichan and himself were satisfied and Sakura-nee smiled with the sort of reckless abandon that he saw when Kiba-niichan brought home another postcard from his missions with Aunt Hinata and Uncle Shino.

"Kiba!" His sister's voice cut through his thoughts and Ryu giggled again when he saw Kiba lifting a fist to throw himself at Neji's haughty face. "Eat your food, shut up and sit down. Your mother wouldn't like it if I had to patch you up again."

His older brother's dark eyes contrasted the embarrassed flush on his cheeks and Ryu smiled when Sakura-nee chuckled softly.

"She's got you on a leash, _pooch_." His Aunt Ino said loudly, appearing from Choji's house, sipping an orangey pink cocktail. Uncle Shika slunk out behind her, his dark eyes settling on his sister, a strange expression coming over his face, one that Ryu thought he wanted her to see but Sakura ignored him.

Ryu frowned.

Sakura-nee never ignored Uncle Shika. Not even when she had gotten upset at him for saying something about her and Kiba's relationship.

It must be something really serious if—

"Aw, shut the f—erm, hell up Ino!" Kiba-niichan's shout cut off his thoughts and Ryu watched as his older brother balked at Sakura's glare.

Ignoring his growing anxiety about Uncle Shika, Ryu snuggled deeper into his sister's arms and took in Choji's barbecue: Hinata smiling politely at Shino's commentary, Choji shoveling food into his mouth faster, trying to keep up with Kiba's ravenous appetite and the rest of the rookie nine laughing and eating in the early afternoon.

Even Uncle Lee The Youthful Boy and Uncle Neji The Serious seemed to be having fun.

Aunt Tenten winked at him behind her blade and Ryu grinned back.

(Aunt Tenten was always his favorite.)

Sakura-nee tugged him closer and ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly.

 _I'm so happy Sakura-nee is home._

* * *

They walked home in the dark slowly, Kiba leaning on her, mumbling drunken nothings into the night air. Ryu was settled on her hip, her little brother's cold nose burrowed into her neck, his soft snores rustling the hair at the base of her skull.

"My boys," She whispered lovingly, "You're too much."

Kiba snorted something and wrapped an arm around her. "Says the hime."

Sakura giggled softly, not wanting to wake up Ryu again. He had eaten his fill at the party, despite his yearning for curry, and he had crawled into her arms once more after he had run around with Lee and Neji, giggling heartily whenever Lee cried out with passion at something every day.

Tenten had helped her get him into the carrier, strapping the soft leather over her chest and hips, and layered a light purple blanket over Ryu's shoulder, pressing a kiss against her little brother's head.

"Tomorrow, if he wants," Tenten had proposed a little awkwardly (she still hadn't gotten used to Ryu's fawning attention), "Tell him I can walk him to school. I've got a couple new weapons he might like to see."

Sakura had agreed, ignoring Kiba's over exaggerated betrayed expression, promising that Tenten could always come over when she wanted to.

"Kiba," She nudged the arm that had twined itself around her waist.

Her partner grunted and only leaned further onto her, his head lolling on hers, his hair falling into her eyes.

Sakura rolled her eyes. He always turned into a mushy puppy when he got drunk. The last time Shika had deposited him at her door, a pinched expression on the strategist's face, telling her that she was a _saint_ for putting up with Kiba's drunk cuddling but—he was _never_ going to do that again.

"Kiba, honey." Sakura asked again, stopping so she could adjust Ryu's weight in the carrier again. "D'you want to go to Tsume's—"

"Stay w'you." He muttered into her hair, drawing her closer. "Get rid of the smell."

"Smell?" Sakura wrinkled her nose in confusion.

As they rounded the corner onto her street, he spoke up once more. "Rusty—like kunai. Smells bad on you. Like the field."

And Sakura remembered his words yesterday, " _You smell like someone else,"_ and sighed.

"Okay Kiba. But we're gonna get you to drink some water and I've got your pajamas in my drawer—and you _will_ wear them. No questions asked."

He harrumphed into her ear and Sakura smiled again.

She was just happy to be with them.

* * *

It was late in the night, the air tasted like electricity and sweat, when she woke up gasping. The darkness was suffocating she trembled violently, her breaths coming panicked and her thoughts running rampant in her brain.

 _Where am I?_ She nearly screamed aloud. Only years of waking up naked in stranger's beds had her clamping her jaw shut and her fingers mechanically reaching to cup her sex, to see if tender.

Choked tears rose to her eyes as she felt nothing and her frame was wracked with another sob as relief flooded her body, a raw whimper fighting its way through the lump in her throat. She was frantic as she checked her breasts for bruises, her hips for imprints and her thighs for bites.

"Thank you." She choked out, her eyesight blurred by tears in the pitch black, her hair—wild from her jerking movements—hung down her back in tight curls, something that told her she was home.

Something shuffled and moaned next to her and her heartbeat spiked again before she realized that it would be Kiba.

A dull ache thrummed in her chest as she took in his peaceful face, the boyish smile he usually wore, replaced by a look of sleepy contentment as he snuggled deeper into her pillow, his arms reaching for her across the mattress.

Rain pounded against the window and she pressed a hand against her heart as she heard thunder crack in the distance, a flash of lightning following behind it.

 _Everything is okay,_ she told herself as she edged out of the bed, ignoring the way her body screamed in protest.

Sakura knew what she would do. She would make a cup of oolong tea and take out that adventure book she'd been keeping the cupboard and wrap herself up in a blanket. She made her way to the kitchen quietly, tying up her hair into a sloppy bun, not caring when half her hair slid out and over her shoulders.

Another crack of lightning had Sakura feeling shaky. In her younger years, she had loved storms. She and her mother would watch them crawl over the horizon, looming clouds rolling over the valley, covering the world in a gray darkness that had Sakura lighting up with excitement. But after years of sleeping in unknown beds, being on edge in the darkness, not knowing at which sound to jump at to fight or run or kill at, she hated them.

Her shoulders trembled and her head was spinning as her shaking fingers pressed the light switch. Dull yellow light exploded in the kitchen and Sakura winced as a pounding headache made itself known at the base of her skull.

"I'll—I'll just sit down for a while." She mumbled to herself, just to fill up the darkness, the emptiness that the darkness left behind.

Thunder crackled closer and Sakura jerked, her legs buckling underneath her as her strength left her. She groaned when she felt her still-tender ribs jar from her fall. She cursed Tsunade for letting the last bits of injury to heal naturally and her hands slipped on the tile as she tried to will strength into her legs and stand.

Her head smacked against the tiles as another crackle of thunder echoed over her head and then Sakura wasn't in her kitchen, looking for a cup of tea anymore.

Her breathing hitched and her fingers began to spasm as she gripped the cold, smooth stones under her hands.

The stones of the Yakuza base.

 _Come on_ , Sakura thought a little hysterically, _You need to move. You're out in the open. They'll get you if you don't fucking move, Sakura._

" _You would leave me?"_ A high voice, despair dripping from every word, cut through the charged air. " _You would leave me and come home, alone?"_

Sakura trembled, her fingers clutching the smooth stones as she raised her eyes.

"No," She whispered. "Y—You're not real."

Kaizo's bloody face lurched towards her just as it did in her dreams. His eyes were gone, plucked by the Yakuza's hands and gleaming metal instruments, the only thing remaining were white clumps of flesh hanging by the threads of damaged cornea. He slumped, deformed, his legs reduced to bloodless stumps, arms twisted and broken.

Sakura couldn't breathe as he came closer.

"Stop!" She screamed.

Her heartbeat just about exploded in her chest, as she smelt the old blood rolling off her teammate, the tangy scent of iron, sweat and death suffocating her.

"Don't—Don't come closer!" She begged, tears running down her face.

Kaizo cocked his head, the scent of rotting flesh and dismembered limbs reaching her nose. His face was bloated and grotesque, no longer recognizable apart from the long black locks that he had loved so much. His breath was disgusting—the smell of death so tangible that Sakura heaved.

Her body trembled, eyes becoming bloodshot and bleary from the stress, her fingers shaking so badly she could barely grip the floor for stability.

" _How could you leave me there?"_ Kaizo asked again, ghostly fingers reaching out and grasping her neck.

Sakura struggled, her breathing coming faster as she felt the fingers _attach._

" _You—the whore—how? Didn't you promise me?"_ Kaizo's corpse asked her, his rotten lips moving closer to her, " _Didn't you promise you'd get me home?"_

"I did!" She sobbed, clutching the fingers that wrapped themselves around her neck. "I did!"

" _Then why,"_ His lip curled as if disgusted, " _Did you leave me to die?"_

"I—I didn't." She moaned, her body sinking towards the ground. "I didn't. I came for you. I came looking."

Kaizo let out a bloodcurdling scream and Sakura sobbed against the floor.

"Let me go—"Sakura gasped against his fingers, the bloody ridges of bones digging into her neck, "They'll come for me. They'll kill me—"

" _You deserve it."_ Kaizo spat.

And Sakura began to cry.

* * *

Kiba woke up the minute he heard the screams.

Immediately, he was on his feet, kunai clenched in his fingers. He moved quietly, but quickly. He wished that Akamaru was here—Hana had taken him for the day, saying he needed a checkup but now, Kiba wished he hadn't listened.

As he slipped through the bedroom door, he saw little Ryu's face peek out of his own door and look up at him with concerned green eyes.

"Get back inside, Ryu." Kiba ordered, leaving no room for argument.

"But—"

" _Now._ "

Ryu nodded unhappily but kept his eyes pressed to the keyhole, just in case.

Kiba moved to the kitchen, ignoring the slaps of the rain on the windows, solely focused on getting there and seeing if Sakura was there.

(Because he hadn't felt her in the bed and he was not as good a sensor—he cursed himself for getting drunk and messing up his nose.)

Turning the corner, he nearly dropped the kunai as he took in Sakura's crumpled form.

Her face was pale, her hands clutching at her neck. She was slumped on the tiled floor, her hair hanging over her shoulders in a messy updo, screaming herself hoarse at something.

"No—No!" She screamed and Kiba felt white hot rage slither down his spine and fill up his lungs. He wanted to shout, to scream, to growl incomprehensibly at Hatake Kakashi and the rest of her team.

" _I didn't mean to!"_ She sobbed, tears running down her face as she squeezed her neck tighter. "I came back."

The team that abandoned her to her own devices and just _left._

Her voice was beginning to go raspy, the strength of her fingernails cutting into her skin, rivulets of sticky blood meeting the neckline of her pale blue nightie.

For Kiba that was unforgivable.

You did not abandon family, you did not abandon _pack._

"Sakura." He murmured softly, putting his anger on the back burner, focusing on the small girl.

Her eyes were unfocused and bloodshot. Her breaths were coming in short bursts, the stress of her flashbacks probably making her body so on edge she couldn't discern threat from friend anymore.

And once again, Kiba cursed the famous team seven for leaving one of their own behind. Kakashi was known for preaching about bonds, yet where was he when Sakura was thirteen, scared and alone, with no one to teach her? Where was he when she signed herself up for the ANBU blackops to feed her baby brother in a fit of desperation? Where was he when she begged Tsunade for a crash-course in first aid when little Ryu got sick and Sakura hadn't known what to do or how to do it?

"Sakura, listen." He said loudly, watching how hard her hands bit into her skin. "Hime, it's Kiba."

She stilled a little, but her breaths still came in harsh pants and her nails carved into her skin, blood seeping onto the floor.

Sakura lashed out again and a bloodcurdling scream escaped her mouth. "I didn't _mean it._ "

"I know, I know." Kiba whispered as he edged closer to her. He dropped his kunai on the floor, his body moving slow and easy, just in case she perceived him as a threat.

He ignored how it ached.

"Sakura. You're alright. You're home." He whispered, finally reaching close enough to put a hand on her shoulder.

Sakura didn't move so he edged himself a little closer.

Her eyes were still focused on something behind him and her chest heaved with the strain of her flashbacks. Tears trickled down to her throat and Kiba frowned when the skin rippled.

 _Genjutsu_.

And Kiba's mouth went dry. Because Sakura had never really shown him each and every scar, but he'd known where they were. He knew the one on the back of her thigh, carving thick and deep into creamy skin, "One of my clients like to mark women there," She'd offhandedly mentioned at his snarl, "It's really nothing."

He knew the one on her stomach, the words were faded over with time and regeneration, but they had once been so deep even Tsunade had not been able to get rid of it. He'd cried into her neck when he'd seen the cruel words, she holding him tightly to her, running hardened fingers through his hair.

Kiba knew the ones on her calves, the ones on her arms, the ones that crisscrossed her spine, dancing across her skin like intricate, faded tattoos.

But Sakura had not shown him this one.

He hated himself for it, but he needed to _see._ He needed to _know_ what had happened the last time she slipped into someone else's bed.

"Kai."

His breath caught in his lungs.

" _No."_ He growled, begging for this to be some trick, " _Please._ "

The scar that seemed to twist over her skin, pink and puffy in the clear moonlight, was carved over her neck, deep, deep into her skin. It mocked him as she heaved, the skin jiggling to the beat of her movements.

Tears filled his eyes as he watched her grow more scared, more confused, her hands gripping her neck tighter as an expression of pain filtered over her face, distorting the scar that ran from her temple to the edge of her mouth. It was thinner than the one on her neck, but just as deep.

"Sakura." He called out again, not bothering to wipe away the tears and rage that filled his eyes. "Sakura come back to me."

She muttered something but Kiba pressed on, cupping her cheeks, forcing those unfocused, blurry eyes to look into his.

He ignored everything else, ignored how the thunder made her twitch, how her body was too cold and her smooth skin was sweaty and clammy.

"Today is September fifth." She seemed to pause at that and Kiba continued. "We went to Choji's barbeque and Ryu fell asleep on you again."

Sakura's harsh whines and tears slowed and her breathing began to turn back to its normal pace. Kiba ignored the tiny frame that filled the doorway, scared green eyes fixing themselves on Sakura's pale face, a tiny gasp escaping the little boy.

"Your name is Haruno Sakura. You're my partner." He continued when her shoulders slumped, her rigid frame relaxing at his familiar voice. Okaa-chan often did this to Hana when her wife wasn't home to do it for her and he remembered his mother's soothing, gravelly voice filling up the living room when Hana screamed and paced the floor with twin katanas.

"You went into ANBU at thirteen after Ryu was born. When Ryu got the influenza at six months, you begged Tsunade to take you on as a temporary apprentice because you didn't trust the hospital after a stint when you were six, including various complications and much Ice cream."

Sakura became boneless but Kiba let her slump against him, her hands clutching his biceps, knowing that if he moved her, she would view it as a threat.

He didn't dare nuzzle into her skin, not knowing if this was one of _those_ flashbacks or if it was something else. Kiba didn't want to startle her or give her a reason not to trust his hands, so he kept them on her face, his thumbs smoothing away the tears that trickled from her wild eyes.

"You are Sakura Haruno, sixteen years old, ANBU officer and elder sister to Haruno Ryu, age three and a half."

And then, Kiba could breathe.

Sakura shifted in his arms and blinked.

Her hand reaching up to touch the scarring until Kiba grabbed it, keeping it away from the tender skin. He didn't want her opening any stitches, if she had any. Tsunade-sama probably worked for a good two hours just to keep her alive.

(He'd smelt the infection on her skin yesterday, the festering in her blood, soothed by medical chakra)

"Kiba?" She whispered, her voice raspy from her screams.

"It's me." He said softly.

He didn't dare touch her anymore than he had to. He didn't want her to think otherwise.

Ryu stood at the door, tears streaming down his cheeks, hugging a stuffed toy to his chest.

Her bottle-green eyes creased with fear and confusion as she rubbed at her eyes. "Where's Kaizo?"

"You had a nightmare." His words were quiet and Sakura's eyes turned stricken.

"No. He—he was right here." She whispered, her fingers twitching. "He—I don't—"

"You had a nightmare, hime. You woke Little Ryu." He said, gently moving her neck so that she saw the silhouette of a small boy, standing in the darkness.

It took a moment, Kiba watching as Sakura visibly tried to compose herself. Her throat bobbed, the blood staining her night clothes evident in the crackling of the lightning outside. Her fingers twitched against his biceps and he resisted the urge to draw her closer.

"Ryu-chan!" She asked, struggling to lift herself off the floor. "Is everything all right?"

Kiba helped her get up and kept a hand on her elbow as she moved closer to the little boy, ignoring the blood on her throat and how her legs trembled with the weight of her body.

 _She's not strong enough to deal with this right now,_ he thought. _She needs rest._

Ryu's mouth trembled a little in the moonlight and Kiba looked away when Sakura bent down, giving him a view of the scars that littered her lower back and legs.

Not for the first time, he wondered how she endured it. How she got up in the mornings and told herself that she was doing a service for Konoha when they let her go to the most gruesome clients, the most terrible people into her body, all for the sake of a mission. He understood it—he was a shinobi too, but— _but_ he couldn't have endured it. Couldn't have endured the abuse, the rough touches, the leering gazes, the feel of unknown skin on his.

He brushed the angry tears out of his eyes and sniffed once, making sure that she was healthy.

Sakura's smell—rain, fresh bread and jasmine—filled his nose, healthy, bright, _alive and well_ and he breathed out a sigh. There were still traces of sweat in the air, and the lingering of something nasty and old—like rusty kunai—and Kiba instantly knew that it would take more than her sleeping a couple of nights in his arms for a night to drive that smell away.

As he looked into Ryu's shaken face, the little boy clutching onto his sister's skirt, he knew it would take both of them, tonight, to drive the darkness away.

"…Can I sleep with you, Aneki?" Little Ryu's voice was strained and Kiba could smell his fear, his caution and stifled a sigh.

Sakura never knew how much her younger brother worried for her and Kiba wouldn't tell her. She'd only worry more and—

"Of course, Ryu-chan. You know you can always come to bed if Kiba's there." Sakura's calm, soothing voice came from the doorway, making his eyes flutter closed.

His hand tightened on her elbow, just in case she fell again.

If there was one thing that Kiba loved about Sakura, it was her voice. As a child, she'd had a high-pitched squeal that had driven him a little batty, but once she'd calmed down, her voice lulled to a dulcet tone that wasn't too grating and easy to hear. Sakura had always been a cooling point to Kiba. She'd once been explosive in her anger, but after ANBU, she'd learned to sharpen it, to hone it into a blade so fine, she only used it in the most dire of situations. For Kiba, she'd treated him with quiet respect, gentle kindness and yet a sort of efficient brutality that made him yearn for her calm presence.

His mother had always told him he'd loved playing with fire, but after Sakura, Kiba much preferred water—gentle until stormy, kind until unforgiving—in its nature.

Kiba watched with cautious eyes as Sakura tried to pick little Ryu up, her arms straining with the effort.

"Let me, hime."

Sakura gave him a grateful smile and he hauled Ryu onto his shoulders, letting the little boy thread cold fingers into his hair.

They walked towards their bed, Ryu clutching his hair and Kiba making sure Sakura was able to support her own weight as they moved, achingly slow, towards the safety of their room.

"Scooch, poochie." She told him, with a tremulous smile as he set Ryu down in the middle, slumping onto his side of the bed.

"Hate it when you call me that, hime." He muttered into the pillow, repositioning himself so that Sakura would have most of the bed.

"Comfy?" Came Sakura's calm, reassuring voice and Kiba grinned into his pillow.

(Yes, _his_ , because apart from Ryu, he was the only one she let into her bed. Something his instincts were keenly proud of.)

"Yes, Aneki." Ryu mumbled into her hair and clutched Kiba's wrists.

"Night."

"Goodnight Nee-chan."

"Mm. Make breakfast t'morrow, Kiba-chan." Sakura mumbled drowsily. She was still trembling and her arms were twitching every now and then, but Kiba would make _sure_ that she would get to the hospital again.

For another checkup, just in case.

 _He_ , unlike Team Seven, would _not_ take chances with Sakura's health.

"Anything for you, Sac-chan."

* * *

Thank you for reading, tell me your thoughts!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

* * *

Sakura sighed in relief as Kiba rounded the corner with Akamaru.

Next to her, Tsume laughed.

"Is my boy bothering you, Haruno?" The matriarch asked with a sharp snap of her fangs.

Sakura just pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed again.

"You know how he gets, Tsume-san," She answered, frowning, "He's always so protective when I come back from missions and it doesn't help when I get the flashbacks."

Tsume nodded and took another sip of the orange juice she had made Kiba bring out for her. "It also don't help that you've got those pretty scars."

Her hand immediately rose to touch the raised skin on her throat and cheek and she flushed, her embarrassment and shame palpable.

"Honey, I didn't point it out so you can get all self-conscious." Tsume barked, "Shinobi have scars, minnow. You've just got to get over it. 'Sides, it makes you look tougher."

Sakura remembered Ryu's horrified face when she had stopped wearing the genjutsu and how his mouth trembled with fear as she sat down at the table for breakfast.

She remembered Ino's soft gasp when she appeared in the flower shop, Kiba in tow, for flowers for Kaizo's grave. How her best friend's smile creased with worry and bright anger and tears misted her eyes.

Sakura looked away from Tsume's dark brown eyes and looked out at the lawn. Hana stood with her wife, teaching her how to hold kunai, her three dogs circling around her, yipping at their heels.

It was a warm day for the beginning of October. The sun was shining down on the valley and it was perfect for a day in baggy shorts and baggy t-shirts. The smell of clean-cut grass reached her nose, something she knew Kiba went nuts for, and she sighed again.

"I don't know, Tsume-san." Tears came to Sakura's eyes and she saw Tsume shift nervously. The matriarch had never been good at quelling tears that weren't her own children's.

"Aw, darling don't cry. Kiba-chan will go all caveman on me. You _are_ his partner. And it doesn't help that you encourage his instincts." Tsume warbled, running a hand through shorn curls and sniffing the air to see if her son was close.

Sakura brushed away the tears and leaned back in the wicker chair before checking her watch. Ryu-chan would be getting out of school soon but she had asked Tenten and Neji to look after him this afternoon. She had an appointment with the Hokage for a medical proposition and she probably wouldn't be home until twelve.

"I know, Tsume-san. I'm just…I don't feel like me when I look in the mirror." She whispered, knowing that Tsume would pick it up anyways.

A warm hand covered her shoulder and Sakura glanced sideways into dark, serious brown eyes. Tsume gave her a shake before speaking.

"Have you seen Inoichi?" She asked.

(Memories of screams and blood and death filled her head—and she couldn't breathe—she couldn't move and—)

Tsume shook her again and Sakura snapped out of her head.

"No."

The matriarch frowned, the ends of her lips turning down into a displeased look. "I know you don't want to go back to therapy, especially after…but I'm…"

Tsume's voice went rough and Sakura's eyes shone with tears at the affection that lined the older woman's voice.

"I'm worried for you runt. You didn't take it well last time. Not to mention that fucking bastard, Hatake just—"

"Tsume." Sakura said firmly.

The matriarch rolled her eyes and glanced back towards her oldest daughter.

They watched as Hana laughed and pressed a kiss against her wife's cheek. The civilian woman giggled shyly, her cheeks lighting up in a flush before nuzzling back into her cheek.

"I think you should see Inoichi. The ole geezer will know what to do." Tsume said again, grinning softly at her Hana's bright laughter.

Sakura smiled too as she took in the sweet scene and the excited yipping that came from Hana's dogs. They were just so sweet, and Sakura knew that Hana worshipped Miya and vice versa.

She wondered if she would ever have that.

Kiba filled up so much of her heart, so much of her soul, that sometimes she was over-full. But Kiba was not someone she could ever want as anything more than her partner.

Sasuke had been her wish when she was twelve. She wanted, more than anything, to have his children, to have his kisses, his affection but most of all—she wanted his _attention._ She wanted him to realise that she was a person too. She wanted him to notice her, to be friends with her.

Looking back, Sakura knew that what she had acted out: a silly, infatuation, with no real meaning behind it except in the last months, was not the way to gain his acceptance, his friendship.

But she had always seen how the other girls had crowded around him and he had _said_ things to them. Had spoken to them. Had told them, albeit little, about himself.

And Sakura wanted that.

So she pretended as well. She made sure that Sasuke knew he was all she could see, all the while hoping that maybe, _maybe_ if he saw how interested she was in getting to know him, he might return it as well.

"Sakura." Tsume's braying voice brought her out of her thoughts quickly.

Concerned brown eyes looked into hers and Sakura gave the older woman a reassuring smile. "I'm okay, Tsume. I just miss them."

Tsume frowned again, a dark gleam coming into her dark eyes.

Sakura knew that most of Kiba's family disliked her team intensely. They were a clan who preached bonds, who gave themselves to their partners, lovers, dogs without restraint, accepting everyone and everything. They thrived on their pack and lived for social interaction. And they never, _never,_ left someone behind.

Kiba, Hana and Tsume never really understood why Sakura stood by Naruto, Sasuke and Kakashi.

But how could she not?

They were her _team._ She loved them.

Irrationally, yes.

Stupidly, yes.

How many times had Tsunade asked her to re-think her decision about Team Seven? How many times had Hana told her softly that there was an opening in another team, if she wanted it? How many times had Ino, Shika, Choji, Hinata, Kiba, Shino, Tenten, Lee and even Neji told her that they wouldn't judge if she took on another team?

But she couldn't do that.

Naruto and Sasuke were parts of her heart. Kakashi was—maybe not her teacher but he was special as well.

"I know you don't like them, Tsume-san. But…you have to understand," Sakura said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "They're my team. My pack. You don't abandon pack."

Kiba's words had stuck with her from his first day in ANBU.

He had been fifteen and a half when he finally caught up with her and Sakura had been furious.

"Why the fuck did you sign your life away, Kiba!" She'd yelled at him, eyes blazing when he showed her the ANBU tattoo on his bicep. "Do you even know what they'd do to you? Do you even understand the risk—"

He'd cut her off with a fanged grin and fierce eyes. "You don't abandon pack."

Sakura had been stumped. She had been reduced to wide-eyed blinks, the other ANBU captains laughing at how a boy managed to make her realise everything she had ever pushed away.

But Kiba had stuck by her through thick and thin. He had made sure she came home to a happy Ryu when he wasn't allowed on missions with her, made sure that her favorite foods were in the fridge, that her blankets were always washed and soft, that her bed was always warm. Kiba had saved her in more ways than one.

He had reminded her that she was not just surviving. He had reminded her that she was a success story, that she was someone who managed to beat the odds and get back in control of her life, especially after The Incident.

And so, Sakura knew that if Kiba could hang onto her for years, she could do that same for Naruto, Sasuke and Kakashi.

She would wait, forever if necessary, but she would make sure they knew they had a home with her, always.

Tsume laughed. "My boy tell you that?"

Sakura nodded, looking to where Kiba appeared with a newborn puppy in his arms, plopping it into Hana's and ducking when she threw a punch for interrupting her lessons with Miya.

"Yeah." Sakura grinned. "Yes he did. He's so stubborn."

Tsume agreed and went inside to go grab another glass of orange juice, promising to get Sakura those steamed buns as well the next time she came over. Sakura watched as the sun went down in the sky, the trees glinting in the low light, a myriad of red, orange gold flowing with a breeze.

A nose poked her leg and Sakura giggled at Akamaru's happy face. "How are you, boy?"

Kiba bounded up the patio steps right behind him and slung an arm over her shoulder. "Now, now, Sac-chan. You don't want me getting jealous do you?"

Sakura rolled her eyes and pushed him onto the stool that Tsume had just vacated.

They sat for a while in silence, just watching Hana and Miya, watching how the sun slowly crept away and the cooing of night owls filled the empty dark.

"What did you two talk about?" Kiba asked when Sakura yawned and stretched her legs. Akamaru sat at her feet and she leaned down to pet him, giggling when the dog rumbled with happiness.

"She thinks I should see Inoichi again." Sakura said, making sure to keep her voice light and effortless.

Kiba's mood immediately darkened and the boy's face creased with worry. Brown eyes, so similar to Tsume's, met hers. "Is it that bad again?"

Sakura hummed and shrugged a little. "I don't feel…whole. When I look at my scars—on my neck, my face— they've taken so _much_ from me, Kiba. My skin, my words, my—"

"Sakura." Kiba's eyes were hard, "They can take your skin, your body, but they can't even _hope_ to touch your soul."

Tears filled Sakura's eyes again and this time Kiba stood from his stool and tugged her into a hug. Sakura always loved hugging Kiba. He smelled of warmth and dog and grass and his short hair tickled the crown of Sakura's head. Hugging Kiba was a little like hugging love.

Sakura sniffed before pulling away, wiping at her eyes with a shaky hand.

"I think…if I'm talking like this again, I'm going to have to go see Inoichi." Kiba nodded at her words and Sakura continued. "Besides, I just got back on active duty and Boar-taichou would be _pissed_ if I had to be benched again. He's looking forward to testing my capabilities."

Kiba's eyes darkened. "I fucking hate that guy, Sakura. He's sick in the head, I tell you."

"He might be," Sakura agreed, leaning her head on his shoulder as he scooted his stool closer to her chair, "But he's also our Taichou. We need to follow his orders."

A beep filled the air and Sakura jumped up, eyes wide.

"What is it?" Kiba barked.

"I'm late! Oh my god I'm so late! Tsunade's going to _murder_ me!" Sakura screeched, picking up her scrolls and backpack before turning and giving Kiba a quick hug. "I'll be back at nine! Tell Tenten and Neji!"

"Okay!" Kiba shouted back, a goofy grin on his face, but Sakura was already gone, her feet flying across the buildings as she made her way towards the Hokage tower.

* * *

Kakashi moved effortlessly through the village. His squadron had come back in tatters from the border, both of his strategists bleeding profusely from several ill-timed explosions.

His lungs burned as he made his way to his apartment. He wondered if maybe there would be mold growing on the walls this time. He hadn't been home in nearly two and a half years, only once stopping by to tell Sakura that he could not longer teach her as he was requested for a position at the border.

He shook his head. Sometimes he wondered how that girl was so full of forgiveness.

Guilt ate at him every time he thought of team seven.

He remembered Sasuke's dark, murderous eyes and Naruto's cheer but he could only ever remember Sakura's incessant tittering.

It was one of the reasons why he'd given up teaching her.

(And then there were the other reasons. Too many memories—too much Rin, those green eyes so shapely, so similar to _hers_ —he couldn't stand it—her. Too much risk, all wrapped up in a feminine package of happy green eyes and soft smiles—too bright, too pure for him.)

But maybe…he thought as he lurched over his balcony, ignoring the way his legs burned and trembled under the strain of his body, maybe he would reconsider.

After all, Team Seven never had a reputation for weakness.

* * *

Tsunade called the meeting and Sakura yawned, stretching in her chair as the rest of the medical board left quietly chatting. Shizune made herself scarce, shooting her a concerned look that Sakura didn't see.

As she made to stand, Tsunade lifted a hand.

"Sakura, please stay."

She frowned but lowered herself back into the chair that had been conveniently left in front of the Hokage's desk. Her shoulder pulsed with the lack of movement and her hand drifted over, rubbing at the sore spot.

Ryu would be getting fussy soon and she didn't know if Tenten and Neji were ready for a three-year-old tantrum yet. She hoped that he wouldn't give them much trouble—or that Neji didn't knock him out with the gentle fist.

Again.

She shook her head and focused on Tsunade's honey-eyes and bright red mouth, hoping that whatever her Hokage—teacher? Mentor?—had to say was quick so she could go home, tuck in Ryu and kick Kiba out because if she anything about that boy, then he would try and weasel in the door because of the conversation with Tsume earlier in the day.

"Yeah?" Sakura yawned again and raked a hand through shaggy curls.

God she must smell.

"Sakura," Tsunade said. A proud gleam entered those honey-gold eyes and Sakura felt something warm bloom in her chest, just as it did when she was a little girl and her mother complimented her on her saiza. "Congratulations on your successful mission. The report you handed in was very informative on the Iwagakure area and we will consider sending you on another recon mission, just in case."

Sakura smiled in thanks.

"But," Tsunade's eyes shifted from hers and she stared briefly at the wall, her throat working. "That is not what I've called you in for."

Sakura frowned. "Is everything okay? Did something happen?"

Inwardly, Tsunade cursed the seven hells for the young girl's team but continued anyways.

"Kakashi, as I'm sure you'll be aware of soon, has returned to the village."

Sakura blinked. Her mouth fell open and her whole body tensed up.

(Because she remembered those few seconds of pain—" _Ah, Sakura-chan. I won't be able to teach you…I've been requested on the front for a couple of years…maybe you should reconsider your will to become a shinobi…"_ —and the months and years of sorrow that followed it.)

"Oh." Suddenly the air was very thick and Sakura's throat had to work overtime to push words through the lump. "Oh, I see. Is he alright?"

She stoutly ignored the pained look Tsunade sent her way.

 _They will always have a place with me. They just have to remember it._

"Yes, his squadron however is not. You'll be taking care of them for a while—Kakashi included."

Sakura could only nod mechanically.

She should be happy, she thought. She should be overjoyed that she could get close to her—teacher?—She wasn't sure anymore—again. But instead, her lungs seized up and all those years of hurt and neglect and abandonment came crashing down. She could only focus on the way that Kakashi treated her.

He placated. He told her things in a soft voice. He didn't mention the big picture.

Kakashi treated her like a child.

And Sakura had not been a child since she graduated the academy.

Most, if not all, forgot that Sakura had been a civilian first. Most, if not all, forgot that she had had _options._ She had seen the way that shinobi returned from missions, war-torn and run ragged, their limbs missing sometimes, their bodies so shaken and weakened they could barely move.

Most, if not all, had forgotten that she had _chosen_ to become that. She had chosen to become a kunoichi—a shinobi of the leaf. That she had signed herself up for anything that helped her village. And most, if not all, forgot that she was _Sakura Haruno_ the girl who was stubborn, but _loyal_ to a fault, more loyal that Naruto. They forgot that she came from a home where violence had not been a part of, yet she willingly threw herself into that world and _embraced it._

Most, if not all, forgot that she had no regrets.

And they never gave her a chance to learn—all they—Kakashi—saw, was a little civilian girl, playing at ninja, despite the fact that she had never had _anyone_ to teach her. Never had a helping hand in her studies, never could have evolved without some basic outside help.

Naruto saw her as a little girl, someone to be cherished and loved, someone who wore pink and red and had clean hands, never understanding the _ugliness_ in the world. He forgot that her confidence had been born from malice and cruelty—because no one forgot the cruel words on a playground, in a grocery story that could drive you to insanity.

Sasuke saw her as an annoyance. Which, Sakura knew, was partially her fault. To him she had always been someone who never looked past the outer shell, someone who didn't care what was inside, didn't care that they could be hurt. But he had never given her a chance either. He had dismissed her as someone who didn't understand _anything._ But he had forgotten that she was the smartest ninja in their graduating class apart from Shikamaru. He had forgotten that she was not blind, she was selective in her hearing and vision, but she understood—she just didn't know what to do when confronted with it.

They had all forgotten that despite being of civilian origin, she was not excused from the difficulties of life.

"Is it necessary?" Sakura asked in a weak voice.

 _After all these years, I'm still not ready to face them._

Tsunade sighed. "No, Sakura it's not necessary. If you truly feel uncomfortable around Kakashi, I'll send in someone else."

Sakura swallowed with difficulty. "What do you think, Tsunade-sama?"

Her Hokage sighed and ran a hand through her long golden locks, mussing up the ponytails. "Honestly…I don't even want you near them. Or them near you. But I know how much you've been looking forward to seeing them—"

"Them?" Sakura suddenly asked, anxious.

Kakashi was one thing. But Tsunade said _them_ instead of _him._

Which meant—

"Naruto's coming home."

* * *

ooh la. Feelings. Sakura's feelings. All the feelings. Tell me what you think! I hope that I give everyone justice in this chapter. Trying to keep this story alive...I've got some plans for it!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

* * *

Ryu knew something was wrong with his older sister.

Ryu knew something was wrong with his older sister because she wasn't smiling as easy anymore. Not that he had any memory of his older sister ever smiling easily—but he knew the difference between her grins. And Ryu _knew_ that the way her lips curled upwards into an anxious, acerbic grin was _not_ okay. Her days became a litany of too-fancy breakfasts, something Ryu knew she did in order to drive away the 'demons', and training.

And that was when Ryu became really worried.

Because Sakura-nee only ever left him when she had to go on missions or she had meetings.

Sakura-nee had left him more often than not with a pent-up Kiba and Aunt Ino. She had thanked them for helping her out and pressed quick kisses to the crown of his head but didn't even looked back once when she walked away as she usually did. Often, he would look into Aunt Ino's face, and think about the sour smile that came to her lips whenever Sakura came to the store, asking for babysitting.

"She's got some things on her mind," Kiba-niichan barely allowed himself to growl.

"But _what_ is wrong, Kiba-nii?" He would cry, hoping that someone would tell him something, _anything_ so that he could help with Sakura-nee.

But Kiba-niichan wouldn't answer easily anymore and he distracted Ryu with games or the spongey chocolate cake that Ms. Toya-san baked or with newborn puppies at the Inuzuka kennels.

Ryu tried his best to understand why Kiba-niichan had basically moved into their home, despite the fact that he knew Tsume-obaa-san wanted him home and helping with the new litters of ninken pups for a couple of his cousin's kids. He did his best to understand why he wasn't allowed to sleep in the same bed as Sakura-nee, even though Kiba-nii was in the room.

He wasn't even allowed to leave his room at night and sometimes, Ryu would wake up to bloodcurdling screams and the sound of Kiba's hushed lullabies. Once he had peeked out of the doorknob and he had had to stifle his sobs at what he had seen.

Sakura-nee had the lost-in-my-head-look that Ryu was so terrified of and she paced the room, blood and sweat mingling in the air from the way her nails dug into her neck, her hands, her thighs, her arms and screamed. Often, Ryu saw Kiba-nii holding her and muttering nothings in to her ears, and then Sakura-nee would calm down enough to slump into Kiba-nii's hold and fall asleep.

(And years later, after all of this mess, he would always remember the way Kiba brushed her hair behind her ears and pressed teary kisses to her hair.)

He asked again, one week later, after Sakura-nee had left for a mission—a simple B-rank, she told him with a tense smile, she would be home soon—what exactly was _wrong_ with Sakura-nee.

Aunt Ino was watching him again and she had decided to brighten the place up a bit with sunflowers and cosmos, pulling back the curtains that Sakura-nee had drawn and dusting off the tables. She had asked Ryu to help her and he had gladly picked up a duster and set to work.

Kiba-nii had had some clan duties to attend and Akamaru, who usually took refuge in the living room, was also absent.

"Aunt Ino." He asked carefully, making sure that the blonde woman couldn't look into his eyes—because Ino could always tell what you wanted to ask before you asked it—"What's wrong with Sakura-nee?"

His soft voice broke through Aunt Ino's humming and the living room was suddenly so silent that Ryu wished he could take back his words.

Ino's shoulders slumped and he watched as his Aunt sat down on Sakura-nee's favorite armchair. Watery-blue eyes lifted to his and he suddenly felt exposed—as if Ino could see all the suffering that Ryu had gone through, as if she _knew_ how worried he was and why and how to fix it.

Sniffling, he made his way towards her and crawled onto her lap, settling his small arms around her. Aunt Ino immediately hugged him back and pushed her chin over his black locks, pressing an absent kiss against his hair.

"Ryu, are you very worried about Sakura?" She asked him in that soft voice—the voice he knew could glean secrets almost as well as Sakura's could.

And then the dam broke and Ryu sobbed into his Aunt's chest, his tiny body shaking with repressed emotion and worry and sorrow. "I don't know, Aunt Ino! S-Sakura-nee's so strong! And Kiba-nii's over all the time! But I can't sleep with her in the same bed and I don't know _why,_ Aunt Ino!"

Ino rocked him as his tears waned into hiccups and then soft little gasps that trickled out tears from bright green eyes.

"I don't understand, Auntie. Why's Sakura-nee so upset? Is it with me? She won't even—"

"Ryu." Ino pulled away to grasp his shoulders better, lifting his chin so that he looked into steely pupil-less blue eyes. "Don't even, for a minute, think that Sakura-chan is upset with you."

His lips wobbled. "B-But—"

Ino shook him again. "No. No, darling. Sakura's not angry with you or upset. She's just…just got some things on her mind."

"That's what Kiba-nii said!" Ryu shouted, "But I _know_ Sakura-nee and she wouldn't be this upset over a coupla thoughts!"

When Aunt Ino didn't answer right away, Ryu struggled in her hold. Reflexively, she tightened her arms around him. "Ryu-chan. Sakura's got a lot of things to deal with right now. She doesn't always have time to—"

"But _why!"_ Ryu screamed, the tears he had swallowed down bubbling up again. "No one tells me _why_."

"I know, darling. But I can't either. It's something that Sakura-chan has to tell you herself." Aunt Ino told him softly, running a hand through his black curls. He relaxed into her, despite the way his chest ached and the skin under his eyes burned with the salt from his tears. "You wouldn't like it if someone told your secrets, right?"

"Right." Ryu muttered unhappily.

Aunt Ino lifted herself off the chair and Ryu latched his arms and legs around her, nuzzling her long, soft—but not as soft as Sakura-nee's—hair.

"We've got some dusting to do, Ryu-chan!" Aunt Ino sang once more, and that was that.

Ryu let himself get lost in Aunt Ino's cleaning songs and her dusty cookies, hoping, that maybe once Sakura-nee came home, she would tell him why she was upset.

* * *

Sakura knew she was worrying Ryu.

Well, not only Ryu.

Sakura knew she was worrying Ryu, Kiba, Ino, Neji, Hinata, Tenten—

She sighed as she walked into the village, rubbing at the dark circles that had appeared over the past two weeks. She had ignored the Hokage's orders, seeing everyone in Kakashi's squad except the man himself. For two weeks, she had tried to pull herself together. She had called on every favor that she had, often asking Kiba and Ino to look after Ryu when she took mission after mission, trying to make herself useful.

She knew it wasn't helping anything though. Sakura knew that while she was running away from Kakashi, she was also leaving Ryu—something she had promised herself never to do.

"Hey Sakura-chan." Izumo and Kotetsu chirped cheerfully.

Sakura lifted a hand in greeting, before signing into the log.

"You okay, little minnow?" Kotetsu asked, taking in her dark circles, thin wrists and trembling mouth.

Sakura chuckled softly. "Spending time with Tsume-san?"

"Her nicknames are always so easy pick up, minnow." Izumo grinned, reaching over the desk to tug her in a hug.

Sakura smiled into his shoulder and patted him on the back. "Yeah, they are. See you soon guys."

They waved at her as she left and Sakura made the long trek towards her home, ignoring the talk as they took in her slender frame and the horrific scars that marred her face. She had tried to get used to the scars on her face—but every now and then, especially around Ryu—she would make the signs for the concealing genjutsu and pretend that everything was normal.

She blinked when she realized she was already at her home. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside her house and then sucked in a breath once she saw what was in front of her.

Ino, Ryu and Kiba were all on her couch, sleeping. Ino's feet were in Kiba's stomach and Ryu was sprawled across his chest, his little hands tugging on Ino's long hair.

And then it hit her—she had _abandoned_ her little brother. In her haste to escape her duties with Kakashi, she had neglected one of the only things she had ever really cared about.

Tears came to her eyes and she slipped off her armor and vest, not caring that she was only in her bindings and dark jonin pants splattered with dubious bodily liquids. Her katana was next as she hung it on the hook that Kiba had installed one summer, the scabbard hanging on the wall securely. She took off her pack and slid down the hall, careful not to wake Ino or Kiba as she made her way towards Ryu.

She brushed away her tears before slipping an arm around Ryu and picking him up gently. Settling herself into her favorite armchair, she ran a hand through his hair and pressed soft kisses to his head.

"'kura-nee…" Ryu muttered in his sleep and Sakura wheezed out a chuckle, tugging him closer.

Kiba and Ino didn't even stir when Ryu woke up properly, his green eyes blinking away the sleepy haze as he realized just who was holding him—he must have really tired them out.

"Sakura-nee!" He very nearly screeched and Sakura shushed him, pointing to Ino and Kiba, the latter snoring softly.

"Sakura-nee," He repeated, a happy gleam coming to those green eyes of his, "You're home!"

"Yes, Ryu-chan." Sakura smiled. "I'm home."

She let him sit on her lap, his tiny arms latched around her neck as she rubbed his back gently, making sure that he was warm and safe and sound in her arms. Closing her eyes, she breathed him in, squeezing him almost a little too tight before pulling back.

Ryu blinked a couple of times before pouting at the lack of petting.

"Ryu-chan, I know you've been a brilliant boy these past two weeks." Sakura swallowed with a little difficulty but continued, "Sakura-nee hasn't been in the best of minds, darling. But I'll be better. I know you were scared for me, that you were worried that I was upset with you—"

"Did Aunt Ino tell you that?" Ryu asked, eyes wide.

"Oh no, honey. I'm your older sister, I just know you that well." Sakura chuckled at his awed expression.

"Sakura-nee is amazing!" Her younger brother whispered, a wondrous smile on his lips.

She smiled at him, but soon Sakura was left with the feeling of guilt and sorrow—she had left her brother in other people's hands, not caring that he could have been worried or scared—and she needed to make up for it.

"I know I haven't been the sister, or parent really, that you've always wanted. I know that I go on a lot of missions and sometimes I leave you for a couple of months and you have to stay with Tsume and Ms. Toya-san, but I want you to know, darling, that you're everything to me, Ryu. I'm sorry that I left you. I'm sorry that you were scared and lonely and that you didn't understand why I was pulling away." Sakura said quietly, watching the way Ryu's eyes filled with tears.

"I love Nee-chan." Ryu started with a watery grin. "I only want Nee-chan to be happy with me."

"I know darling. I _am_ so happy. So happy that you're here with me. Don't ever think otherwise." Sakura whispered to him, hugging him tightly as he bussed a warm face into her neck.

"I'm happy Sakura-nee is home." Her little brother muttered. "I'm happy Sakura-nee is okay now."

Pain seized her heart.

She wasn't okay, she knew that much. Sakura knew she was broken and desperately trying to fix it. Kiba was doing his best, having nearly broken down the door to move in, despite Tsume's wishes and Sakura knew that while the matriarch was frustrated with Kiba, she was more lenient because it was about Sakura.

But Sakura also knew that she was hurting Ryu. And as he fell asleep against her chest, she promised herself she would go see Kakashi tomorrow.

She would go see Kakashi and then Inoichi.

"I'll take care of you, Ryu-chan. I'll never let you worry again." She murmured into his hair.

She didn't see Kiba's sad eyes or the way Ino burrowed her head deeper in the cushions to stem the flow of tears as Sakura promised her little boy that she would get better.

* * *

Enjoy! I'm not super happy about the end of this chapter, but I thought, why not drown in some more angst? The real drama will begin the next chapter. Hope you are all enjoying this story. Thank you to all those who left reviews, they motivate me so much!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

* * *

If anyone knew anything about Sakura Haruno it was that she was brave. She was someone many admired, not only for her tenacity of spirit, but also for her kind, bleeding heart and her soft smile. She was someone who everyone knew to be a fighting soul. She was someone that you could lean on when in need, someone you could go to when you were sad or angry.

At least that's what she told herself as she approached the complex where she knew Kakashi lived.

That she was brave. That people, good people, depended on her and that she had rarely ever let them down.

Taking a deep breath, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and stared at the apartment block. It was tall and gray, the windows only slightly bigger than the average door, making sure that the ANBU unit had enough light and space to get in and out easily. She had been the one to help design those windows, as one of the problems with the ANBU was that they spent too much time underground and their mental health deteriorated with the lack of sunlight. It had been one of her first assignments at the hospital, just after she'd made Tokubetsu jonin and Ryu had turned one and a half.

Her fingers trembled and she was sure that she looked paler than usual. Kiba had tried to get her to sleep but she had been kept up by the nightmares again, this time accidentally slashing Kiba's arm with the kunai she'd stuck underneath her mattress. After calming her down, she'd felt so guilty that she couldn't fall back asleep.

It didn't help that she would see Kakashi with the scars. While they'd healed, there was still the shiny, thick skin, that marred her face, twisting her smile into something strange and unknown. Even though she'd spent the last two weeks trying to get used to the different textures on her face, she still balked when she had to look in the mirror and still hated touching the slash at her collarbone, following the one at her neck.

Her hands trembled slightly as she quickly formed the concealing genjutsu that hid her marred face and she sighed in relief as she couldn't feel the difference in her skin. The one on her neck—the one so similar to a lightning bolt—was easier to hide, and she'd worn a turtle neck, despite the fact that the weather had turned a one eighty and it was nearly boiling.

"Come on, Haruno," She muttered to herself, trying to get her feet to budge from the middle of the street, "You can do this. You've defeated bigger enemies than this, you've gone on worse missions. This is nothing."

Sucking in another breath and ignoring the worried glances she got from the fruit-vendors, she tightened her fingers into fists, plastered on a pleased smile on her face and marched towards the door of the building.

 _At least,_ she thought as she forced her body to obey her mind's command, _I'll be seeing Inoichi after this._

As she grasped the cool metal of the door, she hoped that it would all go well.

* * *

Kakashi knew something was going to happen today.

Maybe it was because his bones started to ache, or because his hair was messier than usual but he knew something was going to happen.

He hadn't been to the hospital yet, the Godaime having only checked on him once to see if he was dying or at least close to death and then she'd looked at him with narrowed eyes and told him that there should be a medic nin to help him rehabilitate his legs and hip in a short while.

The medic had never come and this was the seventh day that Kakashi was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, hoping that someone would get there and promising the emptiness that he would go to straight to the hospital the next time.

Gingerly, he moved his legs off the bed. His jaw creaked with the effort to keep from screaming and he edged himself off the bed, trying desperately to ignore how the wound in his leg pulsed with infection and the way his arms—so strung out from the fighting—turned to jelly.

He was about to try and stand up when a firm voice stopped his movements.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Hatake-san."

He raised his head and nearly swallowed his goddamn tongue.

Sakura stood at the doorway, her arms crossed over a jonin vest, a long ponytail slipping over her shoulder, eyes serious.

She had barely grown taller, he realized slowly. She still had a slender frame, her wrists thin and her body slim, but he could see the muscles under her black turtleneck and how her movements—the way she settled against the frame, how her legs crossed—were made with purpose.

Sakura was…different.

Her eyes no longer gleamed with unadulterated happiness and her mouth was tense, a thin smile covering her lips, barely kept in place.

"Sakura?" He asked slowly, not sure if this was some hallucination that he had procured because of the fever that was taking over his body. Already, he could feel the itch of his throat and how his skin heated under his mask and blankets. It wouldn't be too much of a surprise if his mind summoned her in his weakest moments—he often thought of her when he was near death.

"The one and only." Sakura's smile barely stretched past a tired grin and Kakashi suddenly realized how her fingers were trembling in the crook of her arm and how her jaw clenched, the muscles in her cheek jumped.

 _She's nervous._ He thought, _She's nervous about seeing me._

 _Why?_ Was his next thought but then he remembered her desperate face—begging to be taught, asking for him to take responsibility and how he had shunned her.

He shoved away the last recesses of guilt as he addressed her again.

"Are you here—"

"Yeah. I'm here to heal you. Please, Hatake-san, recline on your bed. I won't take a moment." Her clinical voice burnt through his defenses and he winced.

 _So…she became a medic-nin? Or at least a medic?_

"Maa, Sakura-chan," He winced when she moved him back onto the bed, her fingers unbuttoning his pajamas and searching for the wounds that lay below, "Is that how you greet your sensei?"

Sakura's fingers barely stilled but he felt that momentary lapse in her movements. "I was not aware the position had been filled, Hatake-san."

Her words cut through the air and Kakashi tried very hard not to look at her in shock. He had always known Sakura as a kind child, a little bit of a carefree girl, but one who always had a smile on her face for everyone and this girl—woman—who stared at him with serious eyes and a blank face, was unknown to him.

 _How much have you changed, Sakura-chan? How much have I lost sight of?_

"I'm going to lift your shirt, Hatake-san, please stay calm." Sakura's fingers were calloused—calloused! He realized. Just what had she been doing all these years?—and they itched against his heated skin as the soft glow of medical chakra filled the air.

Her chakra was warm and strangely soft, as if touching a cloud, and he relaxed into her touch, letting her soothe his injuries without much of a fuss. She was quick and efficient as she healed most of the gashes on his side, concentrating on the strained and pulled muscles on his arms and the deep cut at his hip. His legs were a bit more difficult and Sakura leaned back to assess him once more.

Kakashi watched as those calm—he could barely understand the feeling in those eyes, they had changed so _much_ —green eyes took in his bruised legs and bleeding feet.

Her mouth, so tense, smoothed itself out in a neutral expression—one that Kakashi couldn't even begin to analyze. But he could read the rest of her, if not with difficulty.

The twitch in her jaw had been reduced to the mashing of her teeth— _she wasn't nervous, just…annoyed?—_ and her hands clenched as she took in the extent of his injuries.

While she had healed much of him, he still remained covered in bruises and scrapes.

"How was the border, Hatake-san?" She asked quietly as she helped him manoeuver his legs off the edge of the bed and ran a healing hand over his ripped up calves.

He sighed as the pain left him, leaving a pleasurable pulsing that could only be attributed to Sakura's chakra.

"It was…" _Haunting. Familiar. I missed home, despite what you think of me._ "Interesting."

He watched as she nodded and the tension in her shoulders went up.

"You grew out your hair again." He told her quietly, watching as the ponytail slipped over to spill across her back, the strands shining a dusty pink in the afternoon light that streamed through his windows. "Is it practical?"

Sakura hummed and checked his thighs to see if she'd healed every abrasion on the muscle walls. "Ryu likes it long."

 _Ryu?_ He thought curiously, _She was quick to replace Sasuke…At the end, I thought she loved him, despite her manic tendencies._

"Has Ryu been in your life for long?" Kakashi asked in a mild voice, watching as she drifted a hand up his sides, checking for any more injuries. He winced when she caught got on a cracked rib.

She tutted.

He smiled a little at the familiar sound.

Several minutes later she raised her head, dusty pink flyaway hairs fluttering in her eyes. "Did you say something, Hatake-san?"

 _That name,_ he grit his teeth and smiled.

"Ryu? How long has the man been in your life?" He prompted as she checked over him one last time.

"Oh…um three years." Sakura was distracted as she answered him, finishing up her last checkup. "You're all good Hatake-san. Today I would like you to rest and please take it easy. I will be here tomorrow at eight to check up on you again and we'll see if you're ready to begin physical therapy, sir."

 _Sir._ He thought, ignoring the pain that made his heart creak a little. _Sakura…why are you…so…_

"Hatake-san?" She asked again with that infuriating name. He never thought he would hate his last name so much before today.

Her eyebrow was raised and the familiar light of annoyance that was usually directed at Naruto gleamed in her eyes as she waited for her answer.

He was wrong, he realized, as he took in her long hair and fuller features. She had grown. She had grown immensely.

"Yes, Sakura-chan. I'll be waiting." He smiled a little flatly, not that she could see and observed her as she stood and dusted off her knees.

Something flashed in his vision and his eyes narrowed.

As Sakura left, Kakashi realized that the skin on her throat and face were too smooth.

 _Genjutsu._

 _But,_ he asked himself as she slipped past the door, bidding him a stiff goodbye, _why?_

* * *

Sakura felt like a failure when she slipped back into Tsunade-sama's office, leaving her report on the table before turning back to the training grounds.

All day she had agonized about Kakashi. She went over their conversation in her head, tearing apart every single word that he had said to her, every single movement, every smile, every touch and came up with—with something she didn't know if she wanted to address.

Kakashi, despite his cruel words and actions the last time he had seen her, definitely cared about her. At least a little. Sakura could tell by the way he smiled, the way he clenched his jaw and how he watched her, as if trying to figure her out all over again.

It was nerve-wracking and she finally understood why Sasuke hated getting undivided attention from Kakashi when he wasn't training.

She had sensed his frustration at being called 'Hatake-san' but Sakura just couldn't bring herself to call him Kakashi-sensei anymore. He hadn't really ever been a _teacher_ like he'd been to Naruto and Sasuke to her. He was someone she'd stand by no matter what, someone she'd back up, always, because he was team and team was family but…she didn't know how to deal with him. She didn't know if she could be familiar with him anymore or smile at him like she used to.

The night was cool on her skin as she slipped onto the training grounds, saying a tiny hello to Lee who grinned at her and continued running his laps, shouting his compliments. She heard a rumble up ahead and she lifted her chin to stare at the roiling clouds, watching how they moved in the sky, crawling all over the horizon creating a thunderous picture that had Sakura smiling softly at the memory of her mother gazing up at these same clouds, these same skies.

Checking her watch, she noticed that she only had an hour and a half to squeeze in a quick workout before heading home to relieve Kiba of his baby-sitting duties. After she'd get Ryu into bed, then she'd head towards T&I and see Inoichi—Ino had told her he was waiting for her at eight, in the usual room.

Stretching her legs and arms, she began the training regiment that Tsunade and Boar-taichou had prepared for her, gritting her teeth as her muscles immediately began to protest.

 _Perhaps,_ she thought as she got down to start her reps, _I should have concentrated on training more instead of throwing myself into mission after mission these past weeks. Kiba would be disappointed if I couldn't keep up with him and Akamaru anymore. Not to mention, Boar-taichou would really be pissed if I fucked up my ribs again._

* * *

Thank you guys for your continued support! I really love reading all of your reviews and they motivate me to write more chapters! I'm not so sure about this one yet but the relationship between Kakashi and Sakura will be sorted out with a little bit of time :) Hope you all enjoyed! Tell me your thoughts :)


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

* * *

Kakashi knew he really shouldn't be getting out of bed. He knew he really should be resting, just as Sakura said, but he'd never been one for following medic's orders no matter how much the aftermath hurt.

He followed discreetly, ignoring the sting of his ribs and legs, watching how Sakura walked towards the tower, her head held high, chin in the air, eyes fierce.

She had definitely changed, then. He couldn't recognize the little girl who had smiled so brightly at everyone, couldn't see any trace of the young woman he thought would greet him—bright eyes, wide smile, innocence still intact—anywhere.

Kakashi didn't expect the massive rush of grief and loss to overtake him when he saw her. He didn't expect to see her and feel the pinch of guilt and hot, thick shame slither down his spine, tangling his tongue in his throat and his hands into fists.

He had always seen her as someone innocent. He _never_ wanted to see her broken or shamed or humiliated. It was why—and he _knew, he knew_ what he had done was nearly crippling to any active shinobi—protected her, shielded her from the horrors that he had Sasuke and Naruto embrace. He had wanted her to be the soft thing they came back home to, the bright smile, the gentle heart and kind hands, despite the fact that he _knew_ she wanted to be shinobi.

Kakashi hadn't wanted her to end up like Rin—a girl who sacrificed everything for others, a girl who went to the ends of the earth and beyond just to destroy any inkling of a threat, _just in case_ —he wanted Sakura to be…something to protect.

And that was what had Kakashi slipping out of his bed, out of his home despite the fact that he knew it was bad for his health and Sakura would be annoyed with him tomorrow. He had finally understood his actions—his crippling decision, leaving her with no one but herself—all those years ago.

He understood and…he wanted to help her.

He bit back the reflexes that were screaming at him to _stop,stop,stop what are you doing! She's an innocent!_ And continued following her, one goal set in mind:

Hatake Kakashi was going to help Sakura turn into a formidable shinobi, someone to be feared and respected throughout the nations, someone who wouldn't come home in a body bag, throat slit and eyes blank.

She disappeared inside the tower for a little and he waited on the roof of the water tank, watching the doors and waiting for her to reappear again.

When she did, he narrowed his eyes as he noticed her sharp eyes and jaw and the way that they gleamed in the low evening light. He swung himself up and over the roofs, ignoring how some of the other shinobi took double glances, their lips turning down at the way he limped towards the training grounds.

He took the scenic route, trailing over the buildings that let him look at the sun dipping low into the sky, the stars edging their way into the darkness. Kakashi stopped for a couple of minutes, looking up at Minato-sensei, giving the man a small smile.

"I know….I know I've been a bad sensei, Minato-sensei." He starts, quietly sitting in front of the man who looked after him, trained him and fed him.

"But maybe…" He frowns, clearing his throat, "I can make it up to her…"

It takes him nearly half an hour to tear himself away from the mountain, but finally, he does and then he's moving towards the training grounds, determined.

He _would_ make it up to her.

(Sadly, he doesn't make it to the training grounds because Gai sees him and drags him back to his apartment, eyes blazing with joy.)

* * *

"Hello, Sakura-chan." Inoichi smiled, the creases at his eyes crinkling with the movement of his mouth. "How have you been, lately?"

It's the third appointment in three weeks and Sakura exhales deeply as she melts into the couch that Inoichi had pulled out for her. Her fingers trembled with nerves and she took in another deep breath, closing her eyes, trying to pull herself together enough to string a couple of sentences together.

"Um, um…I've been good." Her voice is high and a little breathy and she winces—she would much rather sound immovable, like stone.

Inoichi gave her another creased smile and Sakura sat up straight, running a hand through her ponytail.

 _You said you would do this, you said you would try._

(She remembered Ryu's desperate eyes, worrying for her and the tight slant to Kiba's smile.)

 _I can do this. This is nothing._

"How have your appointments with Kakashi been going?" Inoichi prompts to Sakura's eternal gratefulness.

It's been the fourth relapse in three years and yet she still can't bring herself to start these conversations.

"He's…different." She frowns, remembering his attentions, the way he asks her about her day and pays attention to her, always nowadays. "It's like he's trying to make up for something."

She wants to slap herself for saying that because— _obviously!_

How could she not have seen that? All the kindness he had shown her, all of the offers of tea and training after he healed—they were _all_ because he was feeling guilty.

Inoichi's laughs rumbles through his chest and causes nervous giggles to loose from her throat. They turn into frantic breaths and then Sakura is freaking out, her hands fisting in the couch, her chest heaving with panic. Sweat trickles down her spine and she feels over-aware; she can feel how her eyes widen, painfully, how her toes curled in her sandals, as if trying to grip at something safe, something _known._

Ino's dad is next to her in a second, his hands on her spine, soothing her, trying to get her to calm down.

"Relax, Sakura-chan, _breathe._ " Inoichi tells her, rubbing a hand down her sides. "You're okay. You're in my office, it's three thirty in the afternoon. Ryu is waiting for you to pick him up at daycare in an hour or two. Relax, Sakura-chan. You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you."

It takes a while before her breathing goes back to normal, but even then Inoichi doesn't leave her side, doesn't dare move over to his comfortable office chair. He keeps his eyes on her and Sakura is grateful but—but he has the same look that Ino has. The look that can sear into your soul, search out your secrets and learn the ways to destroy you with one word, one glance.

It makes her feel on display for all to see so she quickly looks away from those pupil-less blue eyes so similar to her best friend's.

"Y—Yeah. Yeah. I'm so sorry." Tears spring into her eyes and trickle down her cheeks, heating up the shame that has already flushed her cheeks. "I know I'm supposed to be—to be _better_ —"

"Sakura-chan." Inoichi shakes her a little, making her look at him once more. "I can assure you, that what you're going through is normal. It's okay. We just have to work through it, like we've done every year before this, okay?"

And Sakura kind of wants to scream because—she was _okay_ before Kakashi came back, she was _okay_ before the checkups and the conversation—but she has fought for them. She has signed away her life to them, promised that they would have a home with them and despite the fact that she has suffered so _much_ at their hands, she loves them.

Sakura kind of wants to scream because—hasn't she known enough suffering?—but, but, but. She _loves_ them. She adores them. She wants them to know that she has their backs, despite everything, despite anything.

"Okay. I'll be okay." She whispers, nodding at Inoichi's soft expression and concerned mouth. "I already know the tricks you've told me—meditation, confrontation. Understanding, acceptance and letting go."

Inoichi watches her fingers tremble and how her mouth tries to stretch into a reassuring smile and thinks that Team Seven has _ruined_ her. He wants to tell her to give up, to never look back because she deserves better but he knows she won't.

Sakura Haruno is the girl who is loyal, even when it destroys her and he wonders if he should have a talk with each one of them—even the Uchiha boy when, if, he finally comes back—to let them _know_ the gift that they have, the immense love that they hold in their hands.

"Let's begin with the genjutsu you keep over your scars."

* * *

Kakashi is sort of worried about Sakura.

He's worried about how she flinches when he smiles and how she looks away when he offers her a cup of tea or comfort. He's promised himself that he would be there for her but—but he doesn't know, exactly, _how_ he can fix it. How he can erase the years of pain she's been through (because he doesn't know what those serious, calm green eyes hold but he can _guess_ because he's seen the same expression in the mirror).

He's sitting at his kitchen table, Icha Icha splayed out in front of him, but he can't concentrate on the words for one minute.

"She's late." He mutters to himself, trying to stifle the worry that builds up in him. It is the third week that she's been seeing him for rehabilitation and while the lack of exercise and movement is driving him a little insane, it's also helping him focus ( _obsess_ , a snarky voice says in the back of his mind) on Sakura and how he can make it up to her.

Pakkun trots into the kitchen, fixing him with serious gray eyes.

"What?" Kakashi hums, pretending he's focused on his novel, pretending that his heart isn't nearly beating out of his chest by the amount of fear that roils in his veins.

 _What if she doesn't come? What if she decides to hand me over to another medic? What if she's given up on me?_

His fingers curl into the cover of the book and he doesn't acknowledge the knowing look Pakkun sends him.

"Stop fussing, kid. She'll come." Pakkun reassures him. "She always comes."

Kakashi just flips the page, not letting the anxiety surface on his face. His leg begins to jump under the table and he pretends that he's calm but he doesn't push away Pakkun's reassuring weight on his lap when the old dog curls up against him.

He's brushing gentle fingers through Pakkun's fur when Sakura appears in the kitchen.

The first thing he notices is that she's not wearing a turtleneck anymore. The second is the thick, shiny scars on her face and neck. The third is that she's dressed in loose pants and a flowing t-shirt, a green sweater draped over her shoulders, the sleeves tying in front.

Kakashi tries very hard not to be startled. He tries very hard not to let a lick of shock travel up his spine and bloom into his eyes but she must have seen something in his expression because her shoulders slump and her mouth turns downward.

"Sorry, Hatake-san, I was caught up in—"

"What happened to your face, Sakura?" His words are measured and stable but they still manage to thicken the tense atmosphere in the kitchen.

Sakura's eyes flash and her mouth twists into a frown, the scar that lines her cheek moving as well. Kakashi swallows _hard_ because this—this is not what he wanted. These scars that mar her skin and cross over her neck are what he's wanted to avoid—because this is _Sakura_ , _Sakura_ , the girl he's sworn to protect, the girl he would gladly sell his soul to keep her innocence.

"Ah. It's classified. But I'm sure you can guess by the scars." Her smile is warm and lopsided but Kakashi can see how her fingers trembled as she slunk towards him, running a hand through her long curls.

"Anyways, Hatake-san, we're getting started on your quads today. Have you been doing the exercises I've given you?"

Kakashi waits until she's gone to break everything in sight.

"Calm down, kid." Pakkun growls at him from the kitchen counter. "You'll destroy everything she's worked on."

"How," He whispers, slamming another fist into the wall, not caring that he's split his knuckles or that his wrists are burning with the effort of his movements. "I thought I did everything to keep her safe."

"Kid…you did everything that she didn't need." Pakkun tells him slowly, as if not to startle or anger him. "The one thing she needed was the one thing you never gave her—lessons."

It is the first time in nearly two decades that he is nearly overcome with tears.

* * *

Sakura wasn't sure if showing Kakashi the scars was a good idea but it was solidified the moment he looked at her. Inoichi told her it was better to rip the band-aid off all at once and deal with the effects as they came.

She tried very hard not to not to run away, back to Kiba, but now that their session is over, she's flipping over the rooftops, desperate to get to Tsume's. She made Kiba move back into the compound, much to Tsume's grumbling thanks, telling him that she _needed_ to do some things alone.

He had put up a healthy amount of fight, but when she burst into tears and told him that she couldn't have everyone coddling her forever, he finally backed off. But before he had left, he had made her promise him that if anything upset her she would come to him, because that was what partners did.

She skidded down, landing in the lawn right in front of the patio.

"Jesus, minnow, you scared the crap out of me." Tsume growled, her eyes fierce. "What's got you in such a— _oh._ "

Sakura nodded, trying to stifle tears. "Yep. Yep. Am I just stupid? Why did I show him? He just stared at me. He asked why but of _course_ I couldn't say anything! My missions are _all_ classified and unless Tsunade-sama gives me the okay, I can't tell them anything!"

Tsume took another look at her tears and the way that her shoulders trembled and brought an arm around her, bringing her into the house. "Okay, girlie, calm down now."

"Where's Ryu by the way?" Tsume-san asks her.

"He's with Tenten, she sent me a message after Inoichi's session telling me that she'd pick him up and teach him the basics of weaponry. He was really excited too, especially after the last time."

The matriarch nodded and sat Sakura down in the living room sending one of her dogs to Kiba despite the fact that Sakura realized that he must still be training with Team Eight.

"Tsume-san, Kiba's—"

"Going to throw the biggest hissy fit since he was three if he doesn't get to tend to you himself. You know how he is, minnow." Tsume told her, running a hand up and down her back soothingly. "Just—"she looked a little worried, "Just get it out. Cry. Scream. Whatever you want. You'll feel better when you're done."

Sakura doesn't scream but she lets Tsume drag blunt fingernails through her hair and soothe away her worries with rough grunts and calming words.

Kiba careens into the house at full speed, Akamaru at his heels, eyes wild. "Where—oh. Oh _Sac-chan_."

Tsume moved out of the way and Sakura leans against her partner, letting him snuffle at her neck to see if she was alright. The matriarch sent Kiba a glower before leaving to tend to the newborn puppies in the kennels.

"Tell me everything." He whispers softly, nudging his nose into her hair and settling her in his lap.

And Sakura did.

She explained Inoichi's suggestions and how she confronted Kakashi and how he reacted. She told him of how Kakashi had stared and his eyes had gone brittle, the light dimming to a flicker and how his hands grasped the table.

"Sakura what's got you upset?" Kiba prompted when she was done. His hands were on her waist and her face was in his neck, trying to get closer to his warmth. Akamaru was behind her, nuzzling her spine and whining at her story.

"I—I don't _know_ , Kiba. I feel so out of place, so _awkward_ with him! I don't know what to do." Sakura cried, her fingers curling into his jacket.

"Okay." Kiba breathed out through his nose. "Okay, what you're going to do Sac-chan is act normal. You've got nothing to hide, nothing to worry about. You've shown him some of your scars. Don't try and push everything back to the way it was. Accept him but be wary. Don't be aloof, but be _careful_. You don't want to give him anymore power over you."

"He's not a terrorist, Kiba." Sakura muttered into his skin, "He's my ex-teacher. I'm just being a wuss and being bitter. I should've just accepted him when he came back."

" _Sakura._ " His voice is hard and she pulls away to better see him. Dark brown eyes bore down into hers and she swallows with a little difficulty. She doesn't like that look. "He's got to make it up to you."

Her hands clench and she grits her teeth. "I…They're…Yeah. Maybe. I'm still going to try and act normal though."

Kiba hums and brings her closer. She checks her watch before snuggling into Kiba, knowing that she won't have to pick Ryu up until later.

* * *

On the edges of the green gate, an orange-flash bursts onto the paved road.

"I'm _back!"_ He screams.

Someone whacks him over the head, grumbling about sound levels.

"Let's go get some ramen, pervy-sage! It's been _ages!"_

* * *

Lots of things! Working on random stuffs too. Hopefully this is an okay chapter...thank you for reading! Tell me your thoughts. Ugh writing Kakashi is really hard.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

* * *

"Haruno Sakura."

The quiet, firm voice drags her out of her fitful dreams and she's quick to grab the kunai from under the mattress and press it against the person's neck. Her breathing is heavy, her eyes wide open and fierce and she doesn't care that all her scars are on display, her tank top and underwear barely covering the worst ones.

Breathing out a relieved sigh when she felt the Kevlar of the ANBU's vest under her fingers and the way their breath quickened, their heartbeat thumping louder in their chest.

"Sorry." Sakura muttered, running a hand through her hair, snagging her ponytail.

She knew she must look like hell—it had barely been two hours that she'd been asleep, the hospital shift and the beginning of Kakashi's physical rehabilitation leaving her chakra drained and her emotions brittle.

(She carefully ignored the hurt that punched at her ribs, reminding her of the two babies they'd lost tonight.)

"You are summoned to the Hokage's office. It is urgent." The ANBU said curtly, probably not haven taken lightly to the fact that Sakura had nearly sliced his throat open without a thought.

 _Foolish._ A snarky voice said inside her head, _he should have known better—We are an assassin after all._

Sakura nodded again, drawing herself close, slipping her arms around her middle, not wanting the officer to see the words that were carved there, the silver skin still shining in the moonlight. She watched as he disappeared from sight, leaving a small cloud to disperse in the air.

Sakura stood still for a moment, taking a deep breath and relaxing her shoulders.

Opening her eyes, she tightened her jaw and breathed out.

It was time to put the mask back on.

* * *

She ran to the Hokage's office quickly, having tossed on a pair of form-fitting pants and top, layering her breast plate over her thermal shirt and strapping her otter mask to the back of her head. Her katana was strapped to her back in her favorite scabbard for easy access and she made sure to slip her extra kunai into her sleeves the med-pouch at her waist. Knowing that she was going to head over to ANBU headquarters to get ready for her mission, she hadn't bothered with a pack, knowing that everything she would need was probably already in the process of being ready for her.

As the night cooled her skin, she took another deep breath as she neared the tower. It was late at night, early morning and she dearly regretted leaving Ryu at this hour. He had never taken to waking up alone, especially in the first months of the ANBU program and she knew that he had suffered greatly at the sacrifices she had had to make in order for the both of them to survive.

Shaking away the thoughts, she made sure her hair was braided to her head tightly, making the hand-signs for henge quickly, turning it a pretty auburn, her default color when on ANBU missions. It helped that her chakra-control was so good that no one would be able to break it unless she was either unconscious or she did it herself.

Pressing her lips together, Sakura had an inkling about the type of mission she was going to be given tonight. It was this niggling feeling at the base of her back that had her sending her favorite summon to pester Kiba out of his bed and pressing soft, soft kisses to Ryu's head, leaving a quick note stuck to the fridge before sliding another one under Ms. Toya-san's door. While she tried to stay optimistic about her mission success rates, she knew that there was always a possibility that she wouldn't come back.

Her body had been restless for days and not even her baby brother's cuddling and playful eskimo kisses had been able to calm her down. The nightmares, even with Inoichi's intervention, didn't seem to have any intention of fading away and more often than not, she found herself pacing the living room, a silencing seal on all the windows and doors, trying to keep herself from screaming. Her scars had begun to ache again, an old reminder of what Sakura knew was to come.

 _It is urgent._

Those had been the words that the ANBU had tossed out before leaving and Sakura bit her lip as she passed the water tower. Those words were the ones that had her hands trembling as she ran, that had her pressing back angry tears and dulling her emotions, boxing all her anger, rage and frustrations into a neat, pretty box at the back of her head.

 _("That will be our code." Boar-taichou had said primly, his blank eyes roving over the cadets faces. "You will of course, be given other missions but when more…delicate methods of dealing with a threat need to be used, those will be the ones you will hear.")_

When she had dissociated enough that she no longer really felt the biting breeze on her face or her aching scars, Sakura slipped into the Hokage tower, making sure that her mask was securely over her face and nothing belied her traits. She stalked into the room, closing it with a click behind her and bowing low to the Hokage, her eyes darting to her taichou quickly before clearing her throat.

"Hokage-sama, you have summoned me?" She asked in that familiar deadened voice.

Sakura noticed the quirk to her taichou's mouth and she resisted the urge to slash his throat to feel the blood drip down her hands, warming her fingers.

Sakura did not even twitch as he appraised her.

She remembered Kiba having been shocked the first time she'd come back, his eyes going so wide Sakura thought they'd burst out of his skull. She remembered having taken days to return to her normal self, remembered having to find purpose in life again without the help of her team, to remember that what tools ANBU had given her were _not_ the ones that made her.

"Yes." Tsunade's eyes creased with regret but Sakura was too numb to feel angry or sad about it.

Sakura always knew, straight from the first time she'd snapped a man's neck the moment he pushed inside her, that she was too good at her job to cut loose. She knew that no one else could find their way around a body like she could, couldn't find how to make someone shudder under their hands like putty in under three minutes, couldn't glean secrets from honeyed tongues after paying worship to their bodies.

Sakura had barely been thirteen when she knew she'd always be in the wetworks squad for these types of jobs.

And she would never reveal her secret to anyone.

She remembered the time when she'd been outraged, furious and scared at how good she was at killing her targets after having them touch her body, when she'd raged against the ANBU system, begging to let her transfer to another squad, sobbing her heart out into her pillow when they'd refused.

It had all changed when they'd paid a visit to little Ryu at his daycare, taking him out for ice cream, keeping their filthy hands at the nape of his neck, ready to snap.

Sakura remembered having smiled the next day when turning up for work, before carving the ANBU tattoo into her arm herself, not even bothering numb the pain.

 _(They had smiled back and told her she was a good soldier.)_

"There has been several incidents of murder and our civilian client—A Mrs. Hayuri Tomagoshi—is afraid that it is the work of a serial killer. We are unsure if they are shinobi or civilian as of yet but our spies are gathering Intel as we speak. You will be gone for three days, as we know definitively where they live." Tsunade said primly and Sakura knew she was steeling herself—her Hokage was far too kind to send off people to their deaths but she did her best and Sakura loved her for it.

Still, her heartbeat accelerated in her chest when she heard the word _they._

 _("Remember the code—we use he or she for one." Boar-taichou smiled cruelly, "And they for multiple.")_

Swallowing quickly, she nodded and Tsunade continued, her mouth turning downwards into a pitying frown. Sakura ignored it, steeling herself for what her mission entailed. If she wanted to survive this, she would have to be as ready as she could.

 _Remember. You are an assassin, not a child._ She told herself repeatedly to block out the fear that rose the hair at the nape of her neck. _You will honor your village. You will keep Ryu safe._

"We will have you fit into the archetype of the victim. You will seduce them and find out if they have any ulterior motives for their actions—we do _not_ want another serial killer on our hands. The uprising in the south has had most of our citizens already very wary." Her Hokage said firmly, her eyes flashing to check if Sakura had understood.

"As my Hokage commands," She said quietly, bowing her head and ignoring the scoff her taichou sent her.

"You will find your equipment ready for you at T&I. You are dismissed, Otter."

Sakura gave a sharp nod and poofed away, not noticing the glistening in Tsunade's eyes and the way the older woman's hands clenched under her desk.

* * *

"Honeytrap! You're back!" A familiar voice said jovially, weaving their way through the T&I crowd to sling an arm over her shoulder. "How's my favorite seductress?"

Sakura, against her better judgement, snorted. "Really Anko?"

Anko's eyes gleamed but Sakura could see a glimmer of pity in those dark brown depths. It made her uncomfortable and so she looked away, ignoring the twinge in her chest. Anko had been a stronghold in her earlier years, always making sure to take her out for dango after particularly…bad missions. Sakura had been grateful ever since.

 _You are an assassin, not a child._ She repeated, _You will honor your village. You will keep Ryu safe._

"Getting ready for your next mission?" The older woman nudged her ribs and Sakura grunted an affirmative as they moved closer to Ibiki's office.

Shikaku sent her a nod and Sakura bowed her head in return, ignoring Shikamaru's surprised eyes as he lifted his head from his father's desk.

Anko grinned. "You're so much more…expressive when you're not getting ready to kill people, love."

Sakura turned, pinning her under a sharp green gaze, her mouth turning rigid. "I was drunk. And fifteen. Shut the fuck up."

Anko threw her head back and laughed. "You were _splendid_. I particularly like that thing you did with your tongue. Pretty fancy moves. Could barely walk for a day after that."

Sakura scowled. "I fucking hate you."

Brushing off Anko's arm, she pushed past the masses of people, ignoring some of the curious looks, intent on getting to Ibiki's office before Anko decided to sing her praises to the whole department.

"Can we do it again sometime?" Anko called as Sakura disappeared around the corner.

" _No."_

Anko just cackled like the crazy bitch she was.

When she finally made it to Ibiki's office she nearly barged in before thinking better of it and knocking politely. She heard a gruff come in and she opened the door quietly.

"Otter. Your things are here. I assume Hokage-sama has told you of the case?" Ibiki asked, sliding his reading glasses up his head, his eyebrow raised.

"Yes Ibiki-sama." Sakura nodded, slipping the heavy pack on, relishing in the feel of familiar olive canvas against her and the smell of weapons' grease. It was good to have an anchor to hang onto. Even if it was filled with frilly garters, push up bras and stacks of makeup.

The interrogator made a face and Sakura resisted the urge to smile a little. He always hated it when she called him that and it amused her to no end. Frankly, even Anko found it hilarious.

Until, of course, she'd asked for Sakura to call her that too.

Anko had proudly displayed the black eye Sakura had given her the day after.

"Well. You're officially set to leave in half an hour but you're cleared to go now. The timeframe is three to four days and you know what to do—use henge, makeup and attitude to cover those scars." Ibiki told her sternly and Sakura purposely blocked out the image of the concerned gleam in those depthless eyes.

"Of course, Ibiki-sama." Then she frowned. "Do you have a cadet to spare?"

"Why?" Ibiki said, raising an eyebrow.

"Hatake-san is just beginning his rounds of physical therapy again and I need someone to go through his exercises with him. Unfortunately, he is severely lacking in the commitment area and I need someone to watch over him to see if he actually does them." Sakura explained frankly, shouldering the backpack better and crossing her arms over her chest.

It had been hell working with Kakashi the last couple of days. Not only was the old man suspicious of all methods of medicine, he was also truly invasive. Sakura had lost count of how many times she had asked him to take up the next stretching position and reflected personal questions with verbal baseball bats.

"Shikamaru's the only kid I've got. That okay?" Ibiki asked, rubbing his chin.

"Yes, Ibiki-sama, thank you." Sakura bowed her head politely.

"Stop calling me that, Otter." Ibiki muttered.

Sakura pretended not to hear him.

* * *

The gate was open, the sun dipping out of the clouds, shining down on the Uzushio spiral, illuminating the crimson symbol, making it look like freshly spilt blood. It was a cold morning and Sakura drew her breastplate closer to her, despite the fact that it was freezing from the chilly breeze that lifted her braid and made goosebumps speckle her skin.

"Kotetsu." Sakura nodded at the ninja, "Izumo."

"Heya minnow. You going somewhere at this hour?" Kotetsu raised an eyebrow before letting out a giant yawn.

"Thought you were done for the week. Hokage-sama is always ranting about how you need a break." Izumo grinned, passing her log.

"It was urgent," Sakura said shortly, signing her name on the parchment.

She ignored both of their winces and sobering faces.

"Well," Izumo tried for a smile, "Come back in one piece, yeah?"

"We'll give you hell if you don't! Who's going to buy us anmitsu?" Kotetsu shouted as she began walking away.

Sakura gave a small smile before turning and leaping to the nearest tree in a quick blur, intent on getting to the tiny, rundown town before noon.

It would be a harrowing four days.

* * *

Kakashi woke up with the slam of a door.

"Get up!" An unfamiliar voice shouted and he winced as he tried to draw out his kunai, his arms shaking with the effort.

"Oh none of that, Kakashi-san." Said what looked like—to Kakashi's early, blurry vision at least—an old woman. "Honestly, you ninja are all the same. Try to be nice to one and they'll draw weapons on you like white on rice!"

"Who are you?" Kakashi nearly yelled, "Actually no—get the fuck out of my apartment!"

The older woman made a face. "That's rude. And I'm your medic."

For a moment, Kakashi couldn't breathe.

Sakura had left him. She had given him to another medic, finally gotten rid of the last stains of team seven, he thought bitterly, pretending his chest wasn't aching.

 _("Don't worry kid. She always come back.")_

Liar, he thought furiously, _liar._

"At least until Sakura-sama comes back. She's got a mission, the poor little bird." The woman said brightly, ripping open the curtains with an almost sadistic kind of glee. Kakashi shuddered and tried to drag the duvet back over his head but the woman was suddenly at his bedside and apparently had an iron grip for a _civilian_.

A little part of him breathed out at the mention that Sakura hadn't abandoned him. Even though he had no right to feel it. He had abandoned her first after all _and_ freaked out over her scars.

He winced.

That was not going to turn out well in the long run.

"She was up at dawn too. Honestly, the poor little thing is always coming back looking half-dead. Although, she always looks better when she sees little Ryu-chan." The woman began ushering out of bed and at this point, Kakashi had just given up, mulishly following the evil woman who dragged him out of bed just to murder his rest.

Brutally.

With _conversation._

"Wait, who the fuck—"

"Language, Kakashi-san!" The woman said primly, sitting him down at his kitchen table.

"—is Ryu?"

The woman blinked. "Well, don't you know? You're her sensei after all."

 _Ouch._ He thought bitterly. _Way to make my morning even worse._

"I was at the border for a couple of years." He reluctantly spit out, lifting his shirt over his head to let the older woman check him over with a critical eye.

She tutted at him, disappointment seeping into her eyes and Kakashi instantly felt guilty.

He had planned on apologizing to Sakura a week ago, but she had kept thwarting his plans by concentrating solely on their physical therapy, never once answering one of his questions about what she was doing these past couple of years or how she was now. Kakashi had even decided that he would let _her_ come to him this time and determinedly left his alarm clock off, thinking that if she came into his apartment, he could corner her and _finally_ apologize.

But _no_. Fate just had to have other plans.

Of course, nothing ever worked out for him.

"Ryu-chan is the cutest little boy I've ever seen. He's got her green eyes too. Black curls though. I think he gets that from the father." The woman explained her chakra lighting up a pale green before running over his arms and shoulders.

" _The father?"_ Kakashi choked out.

"Yes. He's got Sakura's smile. Her twelve-year-old smile, not her sixteen-year-old smile. Boy that girl was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen the first time she pranced into our hospital, a baby in her arms. Features were a little unproportioned, but she was still absolutely gorgeous."

Kakashi couldn't really breathe. His tongue had stopped working and his mind worked furiously, trying to find some sort of solution to this—to this utter _shock._

 _The father?_ He thought frantically, wondering just when the hell Sakura had a child. _The father? Of her child? Of her baby boy?_

"No silly." The nurse said, fixing up the damaged nerves in his shoulder. "Ryu-chan's her little brother. It's a shame he never got to meet his parents, the poor thing. Died in the invasion, you see. The girl was crushed."

When he hadn't spoken after several beats of silence, the nurse called his name again.

But he was too lost in his head, grief and surging guilt battering against his ribs as he thought of how many times he was going to fail her before he could finally call himself a good sensei.

* * *

When Sakura finally got to the district, breathing hard, she opened her pack and pulled out what she was going to need. She had gotten all of her information from Intel, tracked down the targets a little after noon, and now skulked across the street, hiding in the trees, getting ready.

On the forest floor, there was a loose, white dress with no embroidery or markings, the top cut low but not _too_ low, telling her she'd be playing an innocent virgin. She eyed it critically, before taking a kunai and shredding the bottom, making sure to give it a rushed look, as if she'd torn it off in a hurry.

Sakura decided to forgo a bra as she slipped on the dress, making sure to pinch her nipples into puckered pebbles knowing that the more unaware and unassuming she looked the better. She knew that if they strained against the fabric of her dress, and she stilled looked innocent and pure, she'd look just the part for her targets.

She ignored the squeezing sensation at her ribs as she slowly prettied herself to be— _to be raped._

 _You are an assassin, not a child. You will honor your village. You will keep Ryu safe._

Taking a little pocket mirror out of her bag's side-compartment, she tutted at her brilliant green eyes. They were too noticeable and so she quickly slipped on the dark blue contacts, blinking away the sting of the burn. Her blue eyes roved over her face, trying to figure out how to hide the scars.

A genjutsu was a no, at least for her face. She knew she could cover up the ones on her legs with a quick concealment jutsu and maybe, if necessary, ripped white tights, but there was no telling, even if with her brilliant chakra control, that the targets she'd be seducing weren't shinobi and there was _no_ way she wasn't coming back home.

It would be Ryu's birthday in two weeks and she would not miss it, even if she had to come back from the dead.

Deciding on makeup—thick, untraceable foundation and light powder—she covered up the scars that ran from her temple to the edge of her mouth and the ones that curved over her throat. Figuring that she could pass of the rest of her scars as abuse from a violent father, she decided to let the others that littered her upper thighs, back, stomach and chest be.

Because they targets were interested in the innocent girl, she knew she could play off the scars and the abuse story with ease, probably even getting into their good graces as well as getting closer to them—it was always a good idea to play on protective or possessive instincts.

Smacking her lips as she stretched them out, trying to make them look dry and crackled—she did have to look realistic after all—Sakura used the mirror to look over herself once more.

Sakura had decided on wearing innocent-looking, cotton underwear, as this would make her seem more of a child than if she wore a thong. The mary-jane shoes and the white tights she'd also decided on helped with the look and she was satisfied with how childish and innocent she appeared.

Taking one last look at her face, making sure to outline certain parts to draw away from notifying features that people could look up in bingo books, Sakura caught sight of her auburn hair. With a snort, she ran her fingers through the tight braid, making sure to leave several strands hanging around her cheeks, the locks falling out the braid to look as if she had been messed with.

After raising a fist to her face and hitting herself hard enough to bruise, Sakura hid away the pack, only keeping miniature senbon in her hair, a small, sharp blade in the sole of her shoe and the kunai that lined her inner thigh.

 _Besides,_ she thought to herself, _I can always use medical jutsu if it gets really bad._

Then, she stumbled off the road, exaggerating a limp and heading straight for the nearest tavern, making sure to let the dust rise from the road and stain her tights.

Leaning heavily on one leg, she burst into the building, plastering on a stricken expression onto her face.

" _Help!"_ She screamed.

* * *

So! Finally an update for you hungry readers. Yep, there is definitely an attitude change in this chapter. I wanted it that way cos she's finally going on a mission that we get to tail! She'll be meeting Naruto soon. Hope you all enjoy, thank you for reading! Tell me your thoughts if you wish.


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